


The Goldfish House

by INeedFelixFelicis, PhIlLiDa



Series: The Lynx of New York 1979-1982 (ENG) [1]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Canon, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhIlLiDa/pseuds/PhIlLiDa
Summary: THE TAGS ARE ONLY DESCRIPTIVE OF THE CHARACTERS' DYNAMICS - NO SHIPPING. [/] sexual [&] platonic.Club Cod days - the birth of the lynx meant that the child was caged within a deeper spot near the heartbeats where hope still breathes.That world has six rules:1.Drug addiction leads to your downfall2. Play along with the role you are given3. Nothing is free4. Prepare for the worst5. Remorse is a waste, never look back6. Kill your hopes, don't kill your smile
Relationships: 14-year-old Ash Lynx's Female Crush & Ash Lynx, Ash Lynx & Original Character(s), Dino Golzine/Ash Lynx (Unrequited)
Series: The Lynx of New York 1979-1982 (ENG) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827646
Comments: 52
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue (1/3)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ca' Pesci Rossi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228942) by [PhIlLiDa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhIlLiDa/pseuds/PhIlLiDa). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe special thanks to my beta INeedFelixFelicis for her hard work.

_ 0.1 The fish got in the bowl _

* * *

It was a metallic grey Pontiac Firebird III 5.0 coupe with leather interior, the square muzzle like a stapler. Ash instinctively shielded his eyes with his arm when the beam from its headlights hit him. The guy behind him grabbed him and tied his wrists together in front of him. An unexpected gust of wind thrust the smell of gasoline and burnt skin under his nostrils. It made him sick. Swallowing back his vomit, he shouted, a breath raging through his throat,

"—but I won’t ever blow the whistle!"

There were four men in suits, ties and sunglasses. The one who looked like their boss turned to him. The buttons on his shirt struggled to keep his shirt closed over his protruding gut. He nervously chewed at a Marlboro, swinging it from side to side like a syncopated pendulum. The man nodded to his companion and he brought Ash’s face close to the light cone of the high beams, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to his knees. Their leader looked down at him with contempt under a moonless night.

"Everyone says that, but then they speak out of turn and without permission, like you just did, Sweet Eyes."

As he said it, he grabbed his chin, smearing it with blood. Ash's heart drummed in his chest in anguish. He had made a false step. How could he make up for it? Think! Think, damn it! He kept repeating it to himself in a loop in that hell of a moment. What did he want to hear? Entice him! 

The man stared at the boy's emerald eyes. “Ten or eleven years old perhaps,” he declared to himself, then let go of the young boy’s chin, plunging his face once more into shadows. 

As soon as he turned his back on him, he heard him hiss, "If you allow me, sir ..."

For a moment Marvin did not recognize the boy's voice. It had become sharp and satin, and he got excited. He inquired, "What did you say your name was, boy?"

"I haven’t said it, sir," the boy answered immediately. His tone was perfectly balanced between mockery and naivety, driven out by an overwhelming impulse.

"Are you taking me for a mug?" Marvin said, losing his composure.

"I would never dream of lying to you, sir ... I would never snitch on you, sir. I swear!!"

"Enough with this broken record, my dandy-who-says-no-lies," Marvin replied impatiently. "I asked you what your name is. Don’t beat around the bush!" 

Ash stared at him for a few seconds. That man had gagged and burned a boy alive in the dead-end behind them. Then he found Ash and Sophie under a pile of rags at the edge of the sidewalk in that same alley, because Ash's sneeze had betrayed them. He had set fire to Sophie then, that old homeless lady, guilty like Ash of being an involuntary witness to the crime. No, they hadn't spared him because they thought he was too young to be a real threat. As soon as Ash looked into Marvin’s eyes, he felt a shiver of fear run down his spine with understanding. Ash was willing to play dirty to make him pay. He was no longer a child inside, but when would he stop being so helpless outside?

"My name is Ash ... sir," he merely said, almost defeated, understanding that his moment had yet to come. 

The man behind him guided him into the car and fastened his seatbelt. Then he exchanged a few words with Marvin before leaving with the other two. Marvin got into the driver's seat, adjusted the rear-view mirror, ignited the car engine and left with Ash by his side through the streets of Manhattan. While the man shifted his focus on driving, the city lights darted around them. Ash was allured by a distant memory emerging from a maze of thoughts in which someone was calling him 'Aslan'. It was a curly-haired woman. She was wearing a wide skirt with printed poppies that was yanked by the merciless wind, her hands outstretched toward him. The woman had been in a long-forgotten food product advertisement and he had been trying many times to overlap that image with his mother's memory. But he could not set in that figure the emerald eyes that everyone said were his mother's legacy, no matter how beautiful that woman could have been. Then that face, plucked from a TV screen took on the contours of a less idyllic face, more affected by misery and pain: Sophie’s smiling face. Sophie was dead. In that car, filled with the smell of tobacco, Ash choked out sobs. Tears warmed his cheeks, regardless of the fact in a month it would be Christmas.

_ 0.2 When the cat knows the game _

* * *

The Pontiac Firebird reached New Jersey after some time, passed through the gates of a villa and parked shortly after in the semi-deserted courtyard. Ash walked with Marvin through an English lawn and passed by a fountain boasting an impressive sculpture of curly-haired cherubs, piercing their arrows into the tangled bodies of two giant pythons. The morning sun was about to touch the marble surface of the cherubs' head. The painful grimace of the pythons filled Ash with a sense of foreboding dread. 

Marvin and Ash were led into a living room and told to sit, with the assurance that the landlord would come back from the greenhouse in a few moments to receive them. Not long afterwards a man in his forties, greying moustache, wearing a purple scarf around his neck appeared. He took off his gardener's gloves as he entered the room and greeted them. Marvin got up immediately, Ash glanced at him to see if he should do the same. But Marvin didn’t seem to give a fuck about him so he decided to remain seated.

The man who had just entered the room seemed to have noticed Ash's presence only at that moment. He exclaimed, 

"A new face? Where did you find our guest, Marvin?" as if Ash was someone who had invited himself to play a friendly game of poker with them, and not someone they had kidnapped from the streets.

"Oh well, I found him on the sidewalk while chasing the rat" Marvin replied with a laugh but his hilarity didn’t become contagious.

"By chance?" inquired the man with a hint of a smile, at odds with his surgical gaze. 

"I think so," Marvin said, returned immediately serious with his lips tight as if to hide the uncertainty. 

"Then what need was there to tie him up?" the man asked jovially and sat upon an armchair. He turned towards Ash while Marvin untied his wrists and continued in a paternalistic tone,

"You have to excuse him. Sometimes he becomes too zealous. What's your name, boy?" 

"Ash" the boy answered hesitantly in front of that display of affability.

"Ash what?" and at the boy's silence he added "Right, sorry, I'll introduce myself first: my name is Dino Francis Golzine, but you can call me “Papa Dino". I don’t really care," he said with a careless gesture of his hand and a velvet gaze " ‘Ash’ is good enough for now." He continued,

“I'm afraid you got the wrong impression based on the welcome you received, so let me correct it. There was an unpleasant accident last night in this villa, you know: an unwanted guest, in other words, an intruder".

The man began to speak, intertwining his fingers under his chin, propping his elbows on his thighs. There was excitement in his eyes as if he was preparing to regale an experienced audience with a horror story.

"Did you know that those who govern us believe burglars to be an overrated problem? If the laws don't protect us properly, we should be able to take matters into our own hands, don't you agree? I hired Marvin to keep an eye on my villa, and he takes surveillance very seriously. Do you understand what I mean, Ash?"

"That if someone tries to sneak in here, he has to ... catch the intruder at all costs?" asked the boy.

"Precisely. I see that you can follow me wonderfully. However, and correct me if I am wrong, it seems that he has overdone it this time and I'm sorry that you had to witness such a regrettable show. I really mean it"

But Ash found it almost impossible to believe in the sincerity of that apology. His mind continued to be distracted by the scent of cologne hovering around that man.

"So let's come to us" the man continued on the flow of his speech. If he read disbelief on Ash's face, he did not show it. 

"Not everyone is willing to forgive his poor judgements, but Marvin has been working for me for a long time and I would rather not part with him just because "certain" close-minded people do not understand the situation, do you get what I mean? So it's important for everyone to forget what happened, including you, of course, and I guess that's why Marvin brought you here, right?" he looked at Marvin for confirmation. Marvin nodded. 

Ash reflected that the man who called himself Dino seemed to know nothing about Sophie. Ash wondered if he should have brought it up. Whoever informed Dino, when Ash could not overhear them, seemed to have omitted that _detail_ in their report. Ash was outraged at the thought that these men might have forgotten about her because the woman means nothing to them. Or maybe they had not actually got permission by their boss to kill someone and keeping Dino in the dark about that particular fact helped them in limiting the backfire. 

For a moment, Ash savored the thought of revealing Sophie’s death to Dino and seeing what backlash Marvin and his accomplices might face. Maybe he could even convince that Dino not to cover for these killers. He could open Dino’s eyes, so to say. After all, the man looked willing to listen to him. He was about to open his mouth when Dino spoke again. 

"Discretion is an important gift, few know how to keep their lips closed at the right time" 

For some reason, that sentence prompted Ash to withdraw the words just on the tip of his tongue. He felt like it was his gut warning him not to make a mistake. Dino resumed after a beat, 

"But maybe Ash can. What do you think, Marvin?"

"The brats are all the same, Papa" the man answered solemnly as if his statement was an indisputable verdict.

"Marvin, Marvin, how many times do I have to tell you not to generalize? It is right to at least give him a chance" . His boss rebuked him good-naturedly.

"A chance for what?" asked Ash confused and lost, his question like a ricocheting ball. 

"A chance, boy, to show me that I can trust you. You won’t tell anyone what you saw, right? Think of it as a game." 

"What kind of game?" Ash asked in alarm. 

Sometimes adults came to gamble in Cape Cod at his father's pub. Ash didn't understand them, those players. That man, that Dino Golzine had the hungry gaze of someone who calls a very high stake and has a royal flush in his hand. He didn't like it. He didn't like the tone of his voice. Adults don't play like children, adults don't know how to have fun, he knew that.

"To prove that you are trustworthy, you must first carry out at least ten of orders without any complaint. If you can, I am sure that you will not say anything improper to a single living soul. Are you in?"

"If I win, will you let me go?" Ash asked, perplexed, but relieved that everything was not decided by dice.

"If you win, for me it will be like if you had never existed" confirmed Dino.

"What if I lose?"

"If you don't do what I order you to or break your silence, then you'll have to stay with us, whether you like it or not. So?" Dino asked him. 

"What if I don't understand the order or can't do it?" After all, it doesn't sound like a fun game. I don't like taking orders" replied the boy. The man was ready to recognize that the question was pertinent. 

"Good point! In that case you can ask for directions. And of course, demanding the impossible is not allowed," he added after a pause, "If you don't agree to play the game, I'll end up thinking you're a liar, all words and nothing else"

"Then I can bake you on the spit"

Marvin cut in. Ash didn't know whether to take it seriously. Dino didn't say anything else. 

"I'm in," Ash said finally.

"Now I like you!" commented Dino, clapping his hands. 

"Marvin, go out and make sure nobody interrupts us while we are _playing._ "

Ash guessed how the game would continue by the first order: slowly disrobing. Dino took note that the boy didn't need much guidance and soon stopped going into details. It was not his first time, it was clear. But his composure was disconcerting. It almost scared Dino. The ninth order was to take a shower. 

Dino opened the bathroom door for him and as he heard the water flow in the shower he smiled, satisfied. He did not expect such an exciting outcome and was now looking forward with joy to the big scene ahead. He went over to the desk drawer and pulled out a metal object. 

In the shower, Ash was like a bundle of wires. He feared that his chest would burst at any moment, his body was in excruciating pain, even though the soap washed away all the dirt and filth on his body, he still felt unclean.

"Just one more" he whispered to the water collected in the cup of his hands before throwing it on his face. _I can do it_. The sound of the water stopped but his teeth were still chattering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Please leave review or kudos if you have a chance, I need all the support I can get to go on and they really cheer me up.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Prologue (2/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe special thanks to my beta INeedFelixFelicis for her hard work. On this segment [winterune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune). worked as my beta too.

_ 0.3 The freesias and the great tit _

* * *

He could win. Ash's hand froze on the bathroom handle at the thought that Dino might not keep his word. As far as he could see, Ash had found no sign in the man that betrayed his fear of losing. He looked like he had no worries, which was very unnerving. Ash was one step away from winning. So why did the thought of going back to the living room paralyze him? There was no way to know if Dino would keep his end of the bargain, but Ash could still hope for it, right? Why would he go through the ordeal of setting all these tasks for him otherwise? Dino's plan had been to scandalize him. He did not know with whom he was dealing; he did not know that Ash was no longer a child. Ash repeated to himself that Dino did not know anything about him, _could_ _not_ know anything about him. Indeed Ash was sure that he had amazed him. However, he feared that Dino was not the type to admit defeat so easily. He told himself not to do anything that would anger Dino. He would even console him, if needed, because adults didn’t like losing. What matters was that Dino let him go. 

Ash reprimanded himself for overthinking Dino's promise. He knew that he was going to go mad if he didn’t stop thinking about what had happened in that room. But avoiding that thought threw him into the arms of another one no less distressing. Did Dino really not know about Sophie? Or was he simply testing Ash? At the thought, Ash felt he was being paranoid. 

Finally, he decided to open the door. He found himself facing the French window of the living room, still obscured by blue curtains. Ash had observed back then, before Dino hid the view with the arabesque curtains and started giving him orders, that the distance from the terrace to the gates looked small. 

Behind those polite manners, there was a shark lurking—better, a slimy octopus. Ash kept his eyes down. His ears throbbed when a flannel sheet, that Dino had spread twice folded on the sofa to prevent it from getting dirty, entered his field of vision. The memory of what had just happened inflamed his face, then he lifted his gaze and stabbed a look at his abuser. Dino ignored him. Then he said,

"The shower hit the spot, huh?"

To an extent, it was a good thing that Ash had been ordered to keep silent. It was difficult for him to find something to say that was not a straightforward insult. He advanced in short, slow steps towards Dino without looking away. Dino could not help but notice his slim figure.

"It seems that you knew the rules of the game better than I imagined. You beat me across the board,” Dino chuckled and resumed his monologue. Ash did not let his guard down.

"It’s time to say goodbye," he said, pointing to an object in the middle of a pillow on the sofa. It was an automatic pistol. "That's for you. Don't look at me like I am speaking Ostrogoth! Take it!" At the boy's hesitation, he handed it over to him unceremoniously. "This is my last order: put the gun to your temple and pull the trigger."

Then suddenly it all made sense. What had he said? "It will be as if you had never existed" and "I will be sure that you will not say anything to a single living soul". Now it all seemed very obvious. Ash looked at the gun, and then at Dino, at Dino and back again at the gun. He smiled. In Dino's eyes, the message was clear: he could not leave the villa, except as a dead body. But Dino didn't know Ash. Dino knew _nothing_ about him. Ash thought that he was very lucky, the gun was a gift from Fate. He recalled the face of that man, eyes wide in surprise in that fraction of a second that preceded that shot; he saw the face of the man who had turned him into a murderer a few years ago, with his half-parted lips and bristly beard. 

The pillow would cushion the blow. Aware of this, Ash pulled the trigger as ordered, the gun pointed at Dino's face instead. With his other hand, he positioned the pillow in front of the gun barrel. He would flee by the terrace before they even found out about the corpse. 

But no bullet came out: the magazine was empty and the clicks followed one after another as Ash pulled the trigger in vain until a slap threw Ash onto the sofa.

"Piece of shit!" said Dino. "Scoundrel!" He screamed, continuing to hit him. "Marvin!"

When Marvin entered, Dino announced, eyebrow arching,

"Our friend wants to stay in our company. He lacks the guts to die." He then approached the boy so that only Ash could hear the words he uttered next. “If you had obeyed, you would have been free by now. Everyone gets what they deserve, don't you agree?"

Ash bit his lower lip but an angry grunt still escaped his mouth. 

He hugged his knees to his chest. Dino turned his back on him and left the living room. Ash's eyes were too dry to cry. _It won’t ever happen again_ , he swore to himself. He will never again be afraid of dying and he won’t ever again allow Dino to call him a coward. 

In his confusion, he sensed that Marvin had been bargaining over the price for something. Beyond the open door, Dino was shaking his head. Had they left him alone like it was nothing? Ash could not believe his eyes! He stood up to retrieve his clothes from the floor, hopping on one foot trying to fit the other shoe better. Once he had ascertained that the window was blocked and the passage to the terrace impossible, he started to move towards the door they had come through as fast as he could, keeping his ears open to the sound of someone approaching.

As he peeked out through the door, he immediately felt himself being seized by the collar of his shirt. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

A wiry arm wrapped his waist and lifted him off the ground. As Ash kicked his legs in mid-air, a hand pressed against his mouth.

"Hey, Gregory!" called the guard who had grabbed Ash from behind. Someone had just turned around the corner in the corridor. "They left me to watch this kitten. Would you be so kind to take him off my hands, so that I can stretch my limbs outside for a while?" 

The man called Gregory cocked his head to one side and wrinkled his nose. "You won’t let me smoke a cigarette in peace, will you?" he complained, then he looked at the boy, now appearing stern and composed. "And what should I do with this? Didn't Papa Dino say anything?" He took a lungful of smoke. 

"Not to me," answered the guard currently holding Ash. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch him with Marvin in the freesias studio. Marvin wrung out a bunch of bills from Papa for this brat here." The man nodded towards Ash. "They'll be updating the accounts."

"You're a lost cause, you know, Fred?" Gregory scolded him, yet stubbed out his cigarette, took Ash's wrist and pulled him away.

***

"Ouch! It hurts!" The boy protested once Fred was no longer in sight. "That guy’s brains are fried! Where are you taking me? That Fred made it all up, the old man said I could go!"

Gregory didn't listen to him. 

"You don't believe me? Then get ready for a good lecture. You’ll see how angry your boss will be when he finds out that you disobeyed his orders. I am saying it for your sake!" Ash propped his feet on the ground.

"Shut up and walk," reprimanded Gregory dryly, without deigning to look at him. 

As they neared what Ash presumed was the aforementioned freesias studio, they spotted Marvin’s back leaving it. The man paused his walk, seeming to look outside through the bullet-proof window in the corridor. The freesias, Ash remarked in his mind once they almost reached him, were those flowers inlaid on the studio’s solid wooden door. 

Dino peeped out after a few seconds, and noticed their presence. He turned to Gregory and said, "I was just about to call for you, nice timing. Take him along with the groceries to the Goldfish house." He slid his gaze to Ash and continued, "you can take Tony with you.”

"Yes, Papa," Gregory replied, while from up ahead, Marvin exclaimed " _Hasta la vista_ , Sweet Eyes!" 

Ash's gaze shifted to Marvin, still standing with his back to him where Ash had last seen him, waving his hand in his direction cheerfully, as if he was taking a long-deserved vacation. The boy swore under his breath, watching the man finally leave. 

Shortly thereafter, Ash was loaded along with bags and boxes of food into a van. They dropped him off in front of a dilapidated five-or-six-storey building. They pressed an unlabelled buzzer on the intercom and the answering voice was too low for Ash to hear.

Ash had to carry the bags of food into the hallway and then onto an elevator. Gregory placed a box in it as well, and let Ash in. He closed the internal railings and nodded to Tony. Tony pressed the buzzer again and Gregory closed the outside door of the elevator. Ash, who was left alone inside, noticed that the elevator was coin-operated and he didn't have a penny on him. 

But then the elevator started to go up, called by someone outside. As the cement flowed past the railings of the elevator, Ash clenched the inner fabric of his trouser pockets in his fists: him without even a coin while that Marvin had been paid? They had sold him. The information stuck to his mind like chewing gum squashed under the sole of a shoe. He was annoyed, in lack of a better word. 

The elevator suddenly came to a stop at, what appeared to Ash, a random floor and someone opened the door and the railings. Ash was dumbfounded. In front of him stood a person wearing a red cocktail dress, stiletto heels and a yellow feather boa wrapped around his neck. Blue eyes, surrounded by a blond and curly helmet of hair, stared at him and did not look pleased. That person had to be a few years older than he was. 

"Come and give me a hand, Sean, there are too many for me!" The apparition said, referring to the shopping bags and facing the main door of the apartment. 

The voice, Ash noted, could have been as high-pitched as that of the great tit and the feathers could have only strengthened that impression. But he got it wrong: it was a male voice.

_ 0.4 Hypnosis _

* * *

The left arm of the titmouse circled Ash's shoulders as if they were in confidence. With the other arm, he hoisted one of the plastic bags. The cans inside collided against each other, ringing out like plates of battery being struck by sticks. His heels against the floor emulated a rhythmic sound of another percussion instrument. Taking all these sounds into account, a sort of natural soundtrack accompanied Ash as he crossed the threshold of the apartment. It was a pitiful parody of a pompous warlord returning from the battlefield amidst fanfare. Of course, there was no triumph for Ash to celebrate. Feeling the breath of a stranger on his neck only accentuated his discomfort. The guy, that so-called Sean, joined them in front of the elevator, queuing behind them while holding the box with one hand and grabbing the two other plastic bags with his other hand. His back arched under the weight. The name of the apartment on the sixth floor was Goldfish and the reason was self-evident: old bluish wallpaper was covering the walls of the hallway, decorated with fish the size of little candies. The boy in stiletto heels skidded on the floor. If Ash hadn't staggered so close towards the wall, he would have continued to erroneously believe that they were red candies. The apartment was dimly lit, making it difficult for Ash to see his surroundings clearly. All the shutters on the windows and the balconies were completely lowered. No one without a watch could have said, unless they came from outside, that it was barely nine in the morning. The blue-eyed boy had whispered in Ash's ear that his name was Jack. He began to grind a steady stream of more or less hissing words in his ear: he complained that those assholes had brought food so early in the morning, that he hadn't slept enough and that he had gone to bed only a few hours before, still dressed and with his shoes on. As if this could not fail to spark Ash's compassion. Sean closed the door behind them. Then Ash managed to establish an acceptable distance from his interlocutor. He was annoyed by his proximity.

"Where are we? Who are you? What are you doing with these shady guys?" Ash asked, his senses still on the alert.

The last twelve hours had been a continuous succession of adrenaline rushes and he had been tossed from place to place, without anyone caring enough to reassure him. It was perhaps for this very reason that the answer broke through.

“Don't worry, you're safe here. It's all right." Jack whispered.

Ash wanted to believe it so much. 

“Those guys don't dare to come up here, they don't have permission. It's one of the house rules,” Jack explained.

"Those guys are bad news, aren't they? Have you met Dino too? Your name is Ash, right?" Jack prompted him without giving him a chance to think. At that moment the plastic bag fell from the boy's hands with a thud. The cans rolled away with a loud rattle and the room was suddenly bathed in darkness. Ash instinctively raised his chin to the now indiscernible chandelier. At the same time, a voice proposed to him, 

"Shall I reveal to you the trick to forget everything?"

"Huh? Yeah…?" The answer escaped from Ash's lips as if extorted by the confusion. Hadn't Dino told him that he should forget about last night? Yet it sounded just as wrong as it was tempting. But was it ever even possible? Maybe he needed to contemplate it for a while. 

Jack asked Sean to light and bring a candle. Meanwhile, apologizing for the inconvenience, he led Ash to the room the farthest from the entrance, moving safely into the darkness as if he were accustomed to getting around the house in the dark. When Jack pushed him to sit, Ash realized that he had landed on a mattress. His mouth went dry. But then Sean entered the room holding a kind of lamp holder bearing a stubby lit candle. He immediately placed it in Ash's hands and the two of them withdrew, saying that they would return immediately after checking the light meter. Ash was about to return the candle, but they put their hands forward and replied that it was for him and that they didn't want to leave him alone in the dark. And so he sat alone in front of the flame. In the silence Ash found himself thinking that it would be nice to magically erase everything from his memory. A numbness took hold of his limbs shortly thereafter. His head felt heavy. The flame of the candle flickered and twisted in front of his eyes. A penetrating odor emanated from the candle. Whatever was burning before him seemed to languidly embrace Ash's senses and promise restorative oblivion. When the light returned, Ash was already in a trance and did not notice that Jack had entered in a rush and had blown on the candle to extinguish it. Ash had an absent gaze and dilated pupils. A dull ache had started from his temples to behind his nape, like if someone was pulling the reins inside his head. If he had not been in those conditions, in the small room with two beds that had become visible again when the electricity returned, then he could have registered the presence of a corner that was being used as a laboratory for cutting substances. He would have noticed the subsequent packaging of the individual doses to be passed on to the consumers. On the table, there were a pack of mannitol, four digital scales, numerous measuring spoons, a metal tamper to chop the cocaine still in stone and some other gadgets and tools that Ash could not recognise. After all, Ash was not familiar with that stuff at that time to arrive at the right conclusions, even in front of so many clues. Jack had sat down next to him and offered him a shoulder to lean on, while Sean remained at the doorway.

"What do I…?" Ash began with his numb tongue

"It's fatigue, rest," Jack reassured him. Ash saw that Jack was no longer wearing the red cocktail dress and had slippers on his feet. He closed his eyes and his body relaxed as Jack gently rocked him. Ash abandoned his thoughts and leant into the comfortable embrace.

"Ash?"

"Yup?"

"Everything is alright."

How much had he craved those words? And here they were! Yet they sounded so wrong, so out of place ... Where had he ended up? 

“It's all right, Ash. I'll make you forget, trust me,“ Jack’s voice continued, but Ash could no longer see his face properly, sleepiness making his vision blurry.

"I have to get away," Ash protested, trying in vain to focus his sight.

"Shh, where would you go?" Retorted the other boy, closing Ash's eyes with his hand.

"Far away," answered Ash, his voice weak and uncertain.

"What ever happened to you? Tell me... " the voice encouraged him. Ash felt a cold hand caress his forehead.

"Griffin, I ..." Ash began. "I didn't want ... that man ..." the shaking timbre already nearing a sob.

"What happened last night, Ash?" Jack urged him under the guise of a familiar hallucination. The boy was now looking at him pleading, without actually seeing him.

"Last night?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, Ash, yesterday," Jack confirmed, continuing with his generous caresses. Ash’s reticence little by little crumbled as Jack spurred him to recall the recent events, to recall that living room, to recall that sofa. Jack ruthlessly made him recount the perverse game that Ash had been forced to play because, according to him, this was the only way Ash could truly forget it. And Ash was so desperate to forget.

"You don't have to be afraid if you liked it," pronounced the soft voice. A lip brushed Ash’s right earlobe.

"Now sleep, puppy, and when you wake up you will only remember what you liked." Jack laid the boy down on the mattress and tucked him in his blankets. Sean had been staring at them all the time, but now Jack joined him and they went into the kitchen together.

“ _Monsieur_ is starting to lose it if he ordered to bring that critter here,” Jack said with a large cup of American coffee in his hand, while Sean, seated opposite to him in the _open space_ of the kitchen, refrained from commenting. 

Jack's gaze landed on the phone. 

“If they call again, tell them he is _clean_ and do the honours if he wakes up while I'm away.”

"Yeah," exclaimed Sean indignantly. 

"To think that this one here could make an income... won’t last a year, I tell you," Jack continued before retiring into his room. Sean let him talk once again. As he watched his roommate pass by the light meter that Sean had unplugged for their staging, he couldn't help but worry that the future might go off the rails. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Please leave review or kudos if you have a chance, I need all the support I can get to go on and they really cheer me up.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Prologue (3/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a matter of fact hypnosis can't cancel memories nor forces someone to do what they don't want. Ash had too much to process for a single night. This and the drug made him go along with Jack's prompts. No magic. Both INeedFelixFelicis and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune) offered their invaluable help to this chapter. I didn't want to miss Ash's birthday.

_ 0.5 Bad news _

* * *

When he opened his eyes in the pitch dark, Ash’s head still felt groggy. He was surprised to find himself covered in blankets. He remembered staring at the flame of an aromatic candle and then nothing more. A coin-operated elevator, red shoes with stiletto heels came back to his mind - or were they slippers? He was no longer so sure - but he was absolutely certain of one thing: he had to get away from this place quickly. He jumped out of bed, groping for the wall and following the perimeter until he could distinguish the contours of a door by touch. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door inch by inch, trying to keep the creaking to a minimum. He could partially see the couch, the armchair and, beyond them, the kitchen and its island in the farthest spot. A boy stood in front of the stove, regulating the flame, his back turned on him. Upon seeing that, Ash reacted by slipping out of the room and crouching behind the armchair. Then he peered warily in the direction of the hob. It seemed that the boy hadn't sensed his presence. Ash watched him slide sideways without turning around and heard him chop something on the cutting board, hidden from view by the outline of the boy’s body. 

Right, the other one had called him Sean, Ash remembered. Ash pressed his shoulders against the back of the chair and dared to take another peek. Then he realised he would arouse suspicion, staying in that spot and in that position. His eyes flitted over to the hallway that branched off next to the kitchen. The entrance—or exit—was at the end of it. But there were no places to hide between the living room and the entrance hall, not from someone standing by the stove anyway. Ash thanked the soft light bathing the room in shadows. It made it easier for him to pass undetected. He eyed a door on his right, next to the room he had left. He could hide there, he thought. He could stay back there, listening, and when they came to fetch him from where they thought he was, he would slip out of the exit at top speed. So he decided to act, making his movements as discreet as possible, but as he reached the place, and took a step backwards to shut the door, he hit something and... _crash_! Wooden broomsticks and other objects, unidentifiable in the dark, fell on him like a meteor shower. Moments later, Sean opened the closet door, allowing the light from the living room to illuminate the interior, and greeted Ash with a pout. 

"What did you plan to do, little fellow?" He began in a grave tone but lost his composure towards the end when he noticed Ash's foot inside an overturned bucket and the blue yarn looped-end mop head on his shoulder. Ash felt the boy's amused gaze on him and stammered something indefinite, which the boy ignored. Sean took him out of there and ordered him to set the table. Ash noticed that two bamboo placemats had already been placed on the counter.

"It's lunchtime?" Ash asked.

"Dinner," replied Sean.

"Already?"

"Yes,” he confirmed, adding, “You slept like an angel.” He then pointed over to the first of four drawers. “Finish your chore: the cutlery is there in the drawer.”

Ash opened it, and for a moment his eyes roved over the contents, looking for and finding shiny steel knives. Sean did not miss it.

“The security door is closed from the outside, we are trapped, both you and me,” he said as if reading Ash's mind.

"What if a fire breaks out?" Ash asked brazenly as if he wanted to satisfy a scientific curiosity.

“I guess we should hope for a miracle then. Launching yourself from the sixth floor balcony and receiving immediate medical help, as long as you manage to survive the impact, would be kind of a miracle you know,” Sean answered seraphically. "If I were you, I wouldn't like to experiment to see if that particular course of action works before there is no other way out, is that clear?" 

Ash swallowed, bewildered, but satisfied with the answer. Dinner turned out to be an avocado and shrimp salad. Ash stared at the salad bowl with an uncooperative demeanour. He then reciprocated the scrutinizing gaze of the two chocolate-black eyes in front of him. Sean’s hair was parted towards the side and had a short shade shaved laterally with a high tuft combed back. It looked like it came straight out of a hairdressers’ magazine. Silky blond hair, he thought. Like him. The tips of his fork lingered on the lettuce, while myriads of questions whipped around Ash's mind. Sean hinted towards the plate and Ash skewered a shrimp with his fork.

"Do you have any mayonnaise?" he asked, suddenly inspired. Then he mentally cursed himself for being stupid. There were other questions to ask, weren't there? But he could not deny that he was very hungry, nor could he deny that the dish had unexpectedly proved to be to his liking. He began to gorge himself with enthusiasm and without restraint.

“Forget the mayonnaise. When have you ever seen a fat prostitute? I'll teach you to manage the diet, you have to start taking care of our meals soon enough anyway," Sean said immediately. Ash froze on the spot as if paralysed by Sean’s words. Sensing Ash’s discomfort, Sean continued, "That's what I, you and Jack are. Get over it."

Ash had already heard that word on the mouths of those who pointed their fingers at him in the town not long after the scandal, when at school after summer holidays his classmates’ parents had turned to the principal because they feared Ash had a bad influence on their boys. "Prostitute" they had said. Ash burst out laughing without warning in front of Sean.

"You say that just because all three of us are blond. Are all prostitutes blond?" Ash was starting to think that predestination existed and it was such a ridiculous thought that he let out a loud guffaw. Sean could not understand. He had imagined many different and plausible reactions, but nothing had prepared him for this, nor could he understand what short circuit had caused Ash to associate being blond with being a prostitute. But he replied like if it did not affect him, 

“No, they sort us by somatic characteristics, that's why we are all blond in this apartment.”

Hearing those words, Ash became serious and started listening intently. You never know what information could be useful in the future.

“I will teach you what you need to know, the bulk in the first month. The rest will come with time and experience.”

“I hate teachers,” declared Ash, hostile and peremptory. 

And it was no wonder. Ash had never had any good teachers and that had made him arrogant. Intelligence is often the fiercest enemy of humility. Arrogance makes more enemies in a day than there are sunsets in a year. Sean saw a glimmer of the fatigue and the heaviness that Ash would try to shake off all his life because of the blindness caused by that one flaw. But in the end, it was not Sean's responsibility and he could not have done anything in any case. Pride is the only flaw that nobody can help one see because it makes one deaf to the voice of others. He changed the subject, there was no reason to chastise him for his arrogance. He was not his mother.

"Do you see those newspapers on the living room table? They are today's press review. You have to scroll through all the articles and cut out,“ he took a ring binder with the label ‘AC’ from the shelf of the library and continued, “the articles that concern our customers. We keep an updated file for everyone. You have to memorize everything about them as soon as possible. The other file binders are also on the shelf. I already sifted through the newspapers on the armchair while you were asleep."

Despite Sean’s earlier work, Ash realized that the task was a big nuisance. He would have to stop at every contact, and skim every page and check if there was a file in the folders.

“If the article concerns more than one listed person, put it in the folder of the person whose name comes first in alphabetical order. Note down the title and author of the article on a post-it and place it in the folders of the others, together with the folder name of where you placed that 'article’.”

Ash snorted.

"Who does not work does not eat," Sean declared, glancing a threat. Reluctantly, Ash started to work. 

In the open space, some well-defined noises could be distinguished: the dishes in the sink that screeched at times as Sean washed them; the indifferent ticking of the wall clock; the rustle of the newspaper pages that Ash was consulting. At some point, a particular page caught his eye. He thumbed through the pages between the colonel Cinnabon and the tycoon Derrick and he recognized a face. He read the file with the photograph. A line said: "Marvin Crosby, sadistic tendencies, prefers blonds."

_ 0.6 Send me a present, honey! _

* * *

_In the car with Gregory and the other anonymous bouncers from the Club, Sean felt tiny, squeezed between them like a jowl in a sandwich. When the car stopped at the traffic lights, Gregory looked at him from the rearview mirror._

_“Hey, Chick, listen carefully. Today's customer is new to the game, he won’t have any prejudices. You’ve got a bad reputation for always putting on a mournful face. That’s why the others don't want you anymore. So if you don't put an end to those nasty rumors soon, the boss will take action. Got it? You must leave the customer enthusiastic and with a mad desire to air it out in the bullpen.”_

_Sean was, if possible, even more intimidated. He was holding on tightly to the package of the strawberry cake that had been put in his hands. He was not used to being escorted by these gorillas and when Gregory offered to give him a ride, he was not sure he wanted to accept. Chris, his roommate, had scared him to death by telling him, with plenty of gruesome details, how the Corsican mafia used to kill its victims. There were even people who went crazy and killed themselves when they saw it coming. Sean could hardly believe it, but he could not rule out that, after his recent flops, they would not have decided to do him. So he reluctantly accepted the ride, browbeaten at every roundabout any time the car seemed not to take the exit he expected. But they didn't trick him. He got down in front of the Plaza Hotel, crossed the street on the zebra crossing and introduced himself to the hotel concierge, announcing,_

_“Home delivery of the Club Cod Restaurant, room number 688.”_

_"A moment," the concierge said, dialling the room number on the inner line. At the other end of the receiver, the answer was not immediate. Sean’s leg was shaking, the sole of his shoe tapping against the floor tile out of jitters._

_"Sorry, they say they didn't place any orders,"_ _the concierge replied after he finally got in touch with the room. On hearing that, Sean felt a waterfall of despair rushing upon himself. Nobody would believe him if he went straight back to the club. Why did the man want to get him in trouble? He was breaking out in a cold sweat. Then he remembered:_

 _"Tell him that it is the strawberry pie requested by Mr. Kippard,"_ _he said without taking a step back. The concierge gave him a skeptical gaze but did as he was told. Unable to hear the answer coming from the receiver, Sean copied the concierge’s chin. He leaned towards his chest in slow motion, tilt up again and repeated the same gesture a couple of times while listening._

 _"Sixth floor, please,"_ _he finally declared with a gesture of his hand, quelling any and all doubts that Sean had about being denied access. The elevator was busy, so he decided to take the stairs, speeding up his pace at each floor as if he feared that any delay would multiply the steps. The ascent seemed endless. When he reached the sixth floor, he stopped and put a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. In front of him, a metal arrow pointed to the left with the numbers ‘601-650’ printed on it, while in perfect symmetry another one reported the numbers ‘651-699’. He took the corridor to the right, reached room 688, knocked and waited. The man who opened the door was wearing a white silk shirt under a cobalt jacket and grey trousers. Sean pushed past the man in a graceful manner._

_"Can I put it down here?” he asked. “Shall you move—"_

_The desk in the room was littered with drawings, the two beds were covered in clothing, the suitcase in his way forced Sean to twist and jump with the cake in his hand._

_“Excuse me but you can’t enter like this! Tell me how much it costs and give that to me as well!”_

_The man had followed him in, protesting angrily and gesturing in the direction of the still-open door. Sean only turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows._

_"Mr. Kippard requested a full service from the Club Cod. Don't offend me, please, and shut that door, Mr. Knot."_

_Sean’s calm and collected manner took him off guard. He sounded almost like a professional. A professional delivery boy? No, the boy in front of him was wearing a suit and smiling. This made him regret his outburst._

_Mr. Knot closed the door._

_Internally nodding in approval, Sean said, "If you really want to hold it..."_

_He held the cake out to the man, still in its silver package, before loosening his tie and taking it off his neck in a sinuous movement. Alarmed, Mr. Knot rushed over to the desk to free his hands off the cake and then grabbed Sean on both of his arms._

_"What are you doing? What's wrong with you, boy?"_

_Sean laughed heartily. That Knot looked worried about him, what a talented actor! He was going to move up, he told himself. He had made the promise to laugh at any nonsense. He had to give the idea that he was having a good time. Sean thought that, with this guy, it would be child's play, and he was relieved._

_"If you prefer anything else, you only have to ask, sir."_

_“Stop there,”_ _Mr. Knot said, pointing at Sean’s chest._ _“Don’t move.”_ _He continued to stare at Sean as if he did not expect obedience, while with one hand he was palming his surroundings in search of something. Sean looked at him, amused, his hands up. Was he looking for handcuffs? However, he procured a phone, dialled a number, and put it to his ear._

_"Kippard?"_

_Kippard's enthusiasm on the other end overflowed from the receiver along with his obscene comments about the taste of the cake he had offered to his friend. Understanding finally dawned on his business partner. His face turned to ice and he responded to Kippard's solicitations, giggling,_

_“I have never seen a red as bright as in those strawberries, but I wonder how your cheeks would look like in shame. I will have to live with the doubt, I fear, my friend.”_

_Not bad, Sean thought. Then the man hung up the phone after exchanging a couple of pleasantries. He turned to Sean and said, "Go, there's nothing for you here."_

_Sean didn't move._

_“I was paid for two hours, sir. I can't leave before that,"_ _he replied seriously._

 _"No, huh?"_ _Mr. Knot made a face, snorting, then picked up the tie that Sean had slipped off and tossed to the bed. “This is last season’s Armani. Where do you get this stuff?"_ _he asked, his sternness with curiosity missing._

_Sean paid no heed to the rhetorical question and reached out to retrieve his tie, opened the closet, found a mirror inside as he thought he would, and began tying it around his collar. High-class hotels were on another level entirely, he thought, only in those places could one find a mirror in the closets. Then, trying to ignore the tone of contempt of the question, he replied,_

_"Aren't there also companies specialized in the production of packaging, from chocolates to jewellery?"_ _He had tied his tie in record time and turned to Mr. Knot. "Does it suit me, Mr. Knot?"_ _he asked, smiling. He was enchanting._

 _"Are you saying they wrap you up like chocolates to sell you easier?"_ _the man asked, barely concealing the reproach in his voice._

 _"What if they do?"_ _Sean replied back, provokingly._

 _"Nothing,"_ _the other man withdrew._ Here, bravo, it's none of your business, right? _Sean retorted in his head. The more he thought of Gregory's words, the more impossible the task he was supposed to undertake looked._

_Why did he have to get the customer with conscientious scruples instead of some dirty pig like that Kippard? Too bad that the last time, in a moment of exasperation, Sean had given him a bite and Kippard wouldn’t ever let the memory fade away. Then, casting off his sulky mood, he prompted,_

_"So what should we do, honey?"_

_But Mr. Knot paid no attention to his saccharine tone, immersed as he was in his own thoughts._

_“This is a problem. I hate working with someone who looks at me with arms crossed,”_ _spat Mr. Knot. "And to make matters worse, Charlotte hasn't sent me yet—"_

_He looked up and met Sean's gaze. Suddenly he seemed to see him for the first time. Difficult to be sure of it while wearing those clothes, but you could guess a slender waistline under the cloth, right? There was nothing wrong with making himself sure of it, was there?_

_"Do we have two hours?"_

_"An hour and fifty minutes, sir,"_ _Sean corrected him._

 _"Undress, quick!"_ _ordered the man._

_Sean didn't have to be told twice. He could not believe in his luck. It seemed that after all Mister Knot was not the pure and religious man he seemed to be. Mr. Knot studied him from head to toe. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. He grabbed Sean by the wrist and led him to a different spot in the room._

_“Stop here, the light is better,”_ _he mumbled before releasing Sean’s wrist._

 _"One moment, sir,"_ _Sean said, alarmed._ _“Photos are not allowed,”_ _he warned him, jumping to the wrong conclusions._

_The man recovered a still basted vest from the pile of clothes on the bed and gave it to him to wear. He then armed himself with the tools of the trade, and spoke to Sean through gritted teeth, with a couple of pins stuck in his mouth, “I wanted to fit a couple of models that are still bothering me before returning from this business trip, but my assistant has not yet delivered the mannequin I asked her for.”_

_"Do you want me to be your dummy, sir?"_ _Sean asked, surprised, and somewhat humiliated._

 _“Uh-huh, you have the right measurements. You are just what I needed,”_ _replied Mr Knot, whose attention was now only half on Sean, while the other half was on the waistcoat. Sean could not let him get his way. If the man ended up concentrating on his task ... goodbye seduction plans, goodbye shag!_

 _"What are you, a designer?"_ _Sean inquired mostly with the intention of distracting him_

 _“No, Merlin,”_ _replied the man dryly._

_“Ok, stupid question.”_

_“Can’t you stay quiet for a bit? I'm trying to concentrate.”_ _Obviously Sean ignored his request._

_"Of course, but what is a designer like you doing with Kippard?"_

_"What a chatty brat! We are in talks for him to wear the garments from my collection during his election campaign, satisfied? Now shut up,“_ _the man replied, sticking a pin with too much force._

 _“One last thing, then I swear I’ll stay still and silent as a statue,”_ _resumed Sean._

 _"What, come on!"_ _Mr Knot surrendered, lowering his arms and looking up at Sean from his kneeling position._

_"Mr Kippard wouldn't have given you such a ’present’ for no reason and you didn't tell him to go to hell on the phone. Why?"_

_“It doesn't take long in my business for others to suspect that you're gay. It's the kind of rumor that gives you free publicity, as if being gay allows you to better understand a woman's tastes. Fashion is mainly female fashion, after all. It is no wonder that I let them believe what they want. Kippard has not yet formalized his order, his private vices do not interest me. Is that enough?"_

_"Interesting! So you don't want to let people know that it's all a facade and you have never fucked a guy in your life!"_ _Sean said triumphantly_

_"Where is this going?" Mr Knot asked, sensing that he had spoken too much and perhaps too lightly._

_“Give me a pen and paper,”_ _Sean said in reply. He chewed on the pen cap, searching for the right words, and when it struck, he put the pen on the paper and began to write. Then he handed Mr. Knot the sheet. "Tomorrow send me thirty-three red roses to the Club Cod restaurant accompanied by a note with this dedication."_

_Mr. Knot read aloud:_

_"To my obsidian-eyed Adonis..."_ _then he stopped, not daring to give voice to what was coming next because it sounded like the report of a night of passion._

_"Full signature. Your full name?" inquired Sean to bring him down to business. The man didn't take the pen he offered, though._

_"Why should I?"_ _asked the designer, stunned._

 _“Because this way, your friend Kippard will be informed of how much you have liked his little something. You will see that nobody will dare doubt your homosexuality anymore. While I take my compliments for making you fall head over heels in love with me.”_

_He pointed his finger at the sheet, inviting him to sign. Mr Knot looked at him and understood that his refusal would cost him a lot more than accepting it. What were thirty-three roses to a missing order by Kippard? Through the boy's connections to Kippard, the right word at the right time could ruin his image! After that, he would have had to copy the note anyway, but signing at that time meant accepting the terms of the agreement. He did it. Sean then took the note and waved it in midair._

_"Well ... Richard, now that we're in confidence, you can poke me with needles as much as you like!”_

_From that moment on, time went by in a flash and in absolute silence. When Richard accompanied Sean to the door, he couldn't help asking, “‘Adonis’ is not the kind of term I would have expected—”_

_"Right?"_ _Sean interrupted him before he could end the sentence offensively._

_“If you knew us better you wouldn't be so surprised by how much you can learn between one fuck and another, when the customer is a professor of Classical Philology at the university. Adonis, the fruit of incest who made Venus herself lust for him, makes you really believe that gems are to be found even in the middle of the slime. You know, he made me impersonate the whole repertoire of nymphs raped by the gods. A minute I was Arethusa and the next Daphne: a gruelling play.”_

_Richard was clearly taken aback. Sean left him with his business card and reminded him, “Thirty-three, not one less, don’t forget,”_ _and closed the door behind him. Then he closed his eyes. It had been the two funniest hours of work he had ever had. He was sure he would never ever meet Mr Richard Knot again._

***

On December 8, when a synthetic fir and a box of decorations accompanied by a greeting card arrived on the elevator together with the newspapers, Ash was all eyes. He could not hide his amazement. It was he who first read the sheet. 

"Who's Richard?" He inquired

“A loyal fan of Sean, hatchet face,” Jack replied as the three of them dragged the tree in through the entrance. "He likes him," he added, motioning to Sean.

"Not again!" Sean retorted. “He's just a customer.”

"And what kind of?" Ash asked curiously.

"Well, one who doesn't make you bleed, I suppose," the boy concluded, cutting the line of inquiry short. Ash understood what a great compliment it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always any feedback is deeply appreciated. Thanks for reading! 💖


	4. The first rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before [INeedFelixFelicis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis) and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune) made the beta work. I am really enjoying the teamwork! I have also begun to write down the outlines for the next work of this series that will be called _Born by Dawn_.

_ 1 .0 Drug addiction leads to your downfall _

* * *

Two weeks after his arrival at the Goldfish Ash had already gotten the hang of his routine: getting up before nine was out of the question, Jack on his part never came home before three in the morning and, even after having picked up the newspapers and the shopping from the elevator, he went back to bed and was no longer around until noon when they had lunch together.

Jack always slept with the thin, shiny and heavy entrance key around his neck. In one of the early days, Ash had attempted to sneak into his room and steal the key. But Jack had caught him and beaten the shit out of him. To be honest, Jack had not seemed particularly offended by the attempt to steal the keys. It was rather that he couldn’t stand Ash touching his stuff: once, he threw the foundation into the trash just because it was Ash who handed it to him.

Also, he seemed to take pleasure in giving Ash the worst nicknames: for him in the morning Ash was "hatchet face", at midday he was "flabby butt" and in the evening "excrement". Ash had protested against this treatment for the first two days and said they could not keep him there against his will. Jack had locked him in the pitch dark closet for the entire day without any food. He had reminded Ash that he was lucky not to freeze to death outside on the streets and that only a farm boy with no brain would complain about their hospitality in the middle of the winter. That, and a good clip around the ear had put Ash in his place.

He couldn't understand why it was a whole other story with Sean. Sean never raised his voice, never said a rude word, even though he was not the type to sugarcoat things.

If Jack slept through the morning, Ash couldn’t brag about slacking off. From nine to eleven-thirty, he studied with Sean the most disparate things: table manners and ballroom dancing were among the few topics that could have appeared in a normal educational curriculum. T

hen, as Sean listened to tapes and repeated French phrases aloud, Ash had to prepare lunch. At the start of the week, the menu for all seven days was established.

Then there was the usual sorting of newspapers and, two days ago, he had finally been allowed to leave the apartment, escorted by Jack.

It was not a pleasant walk, of course. What a bizarre picture the three of them made at the moment of farewell: like a child who went out with his father and said goodbye to his mother, except that instead of mum's kiss, there was Sean waiting for him who smeared him with a lubed underbelly.

Jack accompanied him to Frank Sanchez, i.e., Froggy, on his way to the Club Cod. There, above the pub floor, after the photoshoot, they began to film some porn sequences with him. The first time they had to sedate him.

Jack, who picked him up at the end of his shift, had to bring him home in his arms.Then, once they arrived at the apartment, he threw Ash into the bathtub without so much as a guilty twinge about his roughness, and turned on the cold water tap.

The boy seemed to return to his senses. Sean was awakened by his scream and he ran to the bathroom. Jack explained what had happened.

"You go to sleep, I'll take care of the rest," Sean reassured him.

"Obviously, this excrement is not my business. Tell him that next time he doesn't stand on his feet, I'll leave him with Marvin."

There was actually no need for that, Ash was right in front of him listening, all horrified. But when Jack was angry, and he often got angry with Ash, he talked as if Ash wasn't there and Ash had learned not to point it out anymore.

Then Jack disappeared into his room, next to the bathroom, and Sean started washing Ash from head to toe as if he were an invalid. Ash stiffened under Sean's hands and Sean repeated to him like a lullaby, "They don't come up here, it's the house's rule, remember? They don't come up, it's the rule, it's the house's rule," in a thousand different modulations.

Ash's previously strained body relaxed. When he got out of the tub the water vapor had misted the mirror and water droplets slid down the lavender ceramic tiles behind him. Sean rubbed Ash’s hair with a towel, then carefully dried his body with a linen cloth and slipped his pyjamas over his head.

He let him put on his pyjama pants by himself and, after taking a look at the outcome, he slapped Ash in the face. Sean had never hit him before and Ash didn't expect it. It was as if that gesture had set the tone for him, Ash began to gasp, he felt a sharp pain in the throat that cut his breath, he screamed but his voice did not come out, only a repressed rattle like the engine of a car that fails to get going.

Sean hit him again on the opposite cheek this time and Ash finally returned to making natural sounds: he started hiccuping and his cheeks reddened. 

"What did I say rule number one is?"

In the pauses between sobs Ash replied, "Avoid ... in any way ... the administration ... of controlled substances."

Sean sometimes spoke a difficult language and Ash had to parrot it back. Sean thought that Ash had a natural aptitude for making conversation and was convinced that he could hone it into a refined seductive weapon as long as Ash expanded his vocabulary. So Ash had assimilated several new words in the recent days including "administration" and "substance".

But it was all a wasted effort if he gave men like Marvin reasons to drug him because he was too rebellious to "work". Whether Ash liked it or not, there was much more at stake for Sean than Ash's survival. He didn't open his heart to Ash, but seeing him return in that state had given Sean the impression that his plans for the future were one step away from failure.

The boy had to get back on his feet and Sean would do everything in his power to help him, even if his motivations were not exactly altruistic. There was no need for Ash to rock, it was enough for him to hold on at work.

And maybe, Sean said to himself, Ash might even go on to become the future star of Burlesque nights at the Club Cod, and that would have been another kind of problem, a problem for Jack. How long would Jack hold the confrontation with a younger and smarter boy like Ash?

Sean and Jack had chosen different, very different paths. To call them friends would be a stretch. Maybe it was Chris's absence that changed everything between them. When it had been the three of them, Chris had managed to mediate between their personalities. But, since Chris had been “promoted” to gangster and moved to Detroit, it had only been the two of them.

They had only been able to draw the lines, bolded lines, which warmed against any interference in what was their individual plan for survival.

"What was there that you couldn't do without getting high?" asked Sean.

Ash thought of more than a couple of things to mention, but that wasn't the point. He knew that Sean would find ways to make them look like trifles.

"Nothing," he answered resignedly.

"I wouldn't say that the desire for a joint is completely unjustified, It is not. But if you really have to, do it for your pleasure. If they get a taste for seeing you act like a pothead, they will roast your brain in a few weeks and you will forget my name and even yours in the process!"

Ash still had a headache and a bad taste in his mouth. In his mind he compared the experience of this day with his first meeting with Dino and he had to admit that he preferred the latter.

He couldn't tell if he got that impression because Dino called it a game or because Dino had not poured on him gratuitous insults like "bitch" and "slut" as Marvin did.

In the end Ash had to admit that Dino always came out victorious in a contest with Marvin. And at the thought he was deeply ashamed. In his defense he said, 

"Marvin kept asking me "does it hurt, kiddo? Eh? Eh?" like a moron. How can you not want to wipe that smirk off his face?"

He followed Sean into the bedroom while complaining about Marvin.

Sean opened a drawer in the dresser, rummaged through it, and a little later he was holding a little stuffed monster. He threw it on Ash's lap, who was already sitting on the bed. Ash caught it and contemplated it in amazement: it appeared to be badly tanned.

"Chris gave it to me when I first came here. We shared this same room together, just like you and me. I learned a lot from him. I was whining more than you did when I arrived, actually. And Chris gave me this puppet to use as a voodoo doll. As soon as I can, I will get you a new one, this one has seen its fair share of voodoo. You can curse it, bite it, prick it with a toothpick. You can pretend it to be Marvin, Fred or whoever you want. You can do whatever you want to them when they are in puppet form, when you come back here. You have to wait for that moment though. You have to make sure to come back. Always.”

“I wish Jack behaved more like this Chris you're talking about. Did you hear what he said earlier?" Ash commented and squeezed the puppet's head in his fist. 

Sean doubted that Jack would actually carry out his threat. Jack was tough, but Sean believed himself to be more ruthless and cynical than his roommate.

"Do you want to see him?" asked Sean, his tone had softened. 

"Who, Chris? Isn’t he gone?"

"I have a photo of the three of us. But don't tell Jack that I showed it to you."

Ash agreed, right hand resting over his heart while covering the nail of his left pinky with its thumb and holding the three middle fingers upward and together.

Sean pulled an envelope out from under the mattress and pulled out a photo from the envelope. Then he handed it to him and Ash looked at it carefully.

It was a half-length photo, perhaps from a couple of years ago. All three of them were wearing a stage costume with pink ostrich feathers. After a day of posing, Ash was well aware that though it appeared that they were smiling in the photo, in reality, they could very well have been muttering curses through their teeth or grimacing. Facial muscles are masters of misdirection.

But there was something far more disturbing than a fake smile in that photo: he didn't know Chris’ expression, but he recalled the painful grimace on his face just before losing consciousness when Marvin had set him on fire.

The locked-away memory came back to him, crashing into him like a train. He mumbled to Sean that he was tired, hurriedly gave the photo back to him and turned over in bed so that Sean wouldn’t notice his distress.

That boy he had spotted in the dead-end, who now had a name, came back to haunt his dreams along with Sophie.

Chris was begging for mercy while she scolded Ash for forgetting her so soon. New fears, new conjectures and a new determination set themselves in Ash's mind and their siege did not last long. 

_ 1.1 What is love, sir? _

* * *

"... when it comes to fruit ... Ash, are you listening to me?" Sean called him back.

"Huh? Yup," Ash answered absentmindedly while drumming with his fingers on the kitchen island. 

"Really? So repeat what I said," Sean ordered.

"That cutlery items on the table should be taken starting from the most external to the most internal," replied his pupil.

"I said that centuries ago! Have you not listened to a word I have said ever since?" replied a furious Sean. 

It could not be helped. For the past five days, Ash had been tormenting himself trying to decide whether to tell Sean that Chris wasn’t in Detroit like he thought he was.

He had started inquiring about Chris. He had confirmed that the two had been very close, but then he also remembered that Dino had silenced him on the matter. What if Sean, moved by his friendship with Chris, had done or said, even involuntarily, something that would have made Papa Dino guess that Ash had spilt the beans?

Besides, Marvin knew Chris. Had Chris really tried to steal something from the Golzine estate? Why had Sean been told that Chris was still in Detroit? Ash had been able to learn, thanks to Sean, that Chris had left about two months before that cursed night.

Either Dino knew it was Chris and he had hidden it from Ash (and this would have been yet another sign that this man's glacial gaze hid lies more numerous than drops of water in the sea) or someone else had succeeded in hiding from Papa Dino the fact that Chris was not in Detroit anymore.

This was already more interesting because it would mean that there was a way to escape Dino's control.

Also, if Marvin was hiding something from Dino, Ash could take advantage of it. Anyway, he had to find out what had happened to Chris and he had to act with the utmost caution. Continuing to ask Sean questions could be dangerous, Ash feared that he had already made him suspicious. But the other two who might know something were definitely more difficult to approach.

Ash had never seen Dino since that first night, had never even met him during his "walks" with Jack.

Marvin, on the other side, had met him many times and did not seem to indulge in conversation very much. It took Ash every bit of determination to convince himself that, being the least risky person he could test the waters with, he had to make every effort to get along with that brute.

Meanwhile, Sean asked, "Grapes, pineapples, tangerines ... what do you choose?" If only he knew what was going on inside Ash's head, Sean would not be so nagging. 

Ash reached out to the tangerine saying, "I love tangerines!"

Sean whacked him with his hand.

"Wrong answer. What comes after the fruit?" he prompted with the air of a life coach.

"The dessert," Ash answered easily, resigning himself to postponing his pressing rumination. 

"Right. So don't forget that the real dessert for the customer is you. Whether you have a wide choice of fruit or not, you must give preference to the one that allows you to show off your lips and tongue the most. Your personal preference doesn’t count." Sean instructed him.

"So ... the grapes?" offered Ash after thinking for a moment.

"Sure," confirmed Sean, satisfied. 

Then he began to delve into the explanation of how Ash was expected to explore the arcane routes of innuendo for the sake of his customers.

"Are you telling me I can only eat tangerines when they don't offer me anything else?" Ash asked bitterly at one point, interrupting Sean and his review of alternatives.

"I would say that it is not really the last choice, but it is not even among the first. But if you take it, make sure to drop a strip of juice along the wrist, always by accident of course, and lick it off when you are sure that the customer is looking at you," Sean explained to him, juggling the tangerine in midair.

At the same time, Jack emerged from his room, a yellow band holding his hair back, a nourishing face mask applied to his skin.

"How did it end, aren't we eating today?" he inquired with a petulant tone.

"We just have to set the table. We were going over a couple of topics while waiting for you," Sean replied.

"Give me two minutes and then I will be ready," Jack said, then disappeared into the bathroom without looking at Ash.

"Let's revise in the afternoon. Put your sweatpants on before sifting through the newspapers," said Sean to his pupil. Sweatpants meant self-defense lessons. 

"Marvin will complain if I am sweaty before even starting," Ash protested. 

"Today you don't go to Froggy, they don't need you for editing. Marvin left for Cuba so, without him to supervise the set there’s no filming until the New Year." 

"No?" Ash asked in amazement. And who was he going to ask about Chris now? After all the effort he had made to ingratiate him in those days!

"You seem almost disappointed," observed Sean. "Will you miss Marvin?" he teased Ash.

"Damn! No!" Ash said vehemently. "Well, if it means that I can't go out until the New Year, there isn't much to celebrate," he said, trying to justify his sudden outburst.

“You can ask Jack if he will let you watch the rehearsals at the club's New Year's show. But not today, today let's decorate the Christmas tree together." 

And so after a low-calorie lunch (like always), all three found themselves decorating the tree.

Jack was taciturn, but at least when Ash handed him the golden tip to put on the top of the tree he took it from his hands and placed it without giving any unpleasant comments.

Then Sean asked him to sing a carol, but Jack refused. So instead Sean started singing, ad-libbing the lyrics haphazardly. Ash laughed, and Jack replied that rather than hearing that cacophony it would have been better he had accepted Sean’s request.

He had an angelic voice. For a few moments, they all found themselves lying under the tree, held up on their elbows, staring at the top and enjoying the fairytale-like atmosphere.

The sound of Jack's voice reverberated pure and delicate like a crystal, pacifying their spirits. Ash was taken, for the first time, by a feeling of sincere admiration for him. For some reason he was led to think that for once Jack seems younger than 14, his real age, whereas to Ash, he had seemed often older.

But he was even more stunned when Ash gathered all his courage to ask him and Jack agreed to take him to the club for rehearsals without batting an eyelid.

"Will I meet the other boys too?" he asked, thinking how rare it was to find Jack in such a good mood. He was quite tired of talking to only Sean and Marvin

"Probably, but what do you care about, flabby butt?"

At that answer, Ash realised that, unfortunately, Jack had already returned his old self.

"You will meet them all at the Christmas gathering,” it was Sean to reply instead.

"What gathering?" Ash asked. 

Jack jumped up, looked disgusted and started to go back to his room. Ash’s eyes followed him, wondering why he was so bothered by that question. Ash felt the urge to provoke him, to withhold him somehow and even later he had no rational explanation for this impulse. He got up without thinking and ran to block his way to the corridor with outstretched arms.

"What gathering, Jack?" he asked more fiercely. 

But like earlier, it was Sean who answered.

“Papa Dino gathers all the boys in a gym and gives them chocolate bars for Christmas. It is also an opportunity to introduce newcomers to others."

"Shove off!" Jack shouted at him. 

Then he grabbed the obstinate boy by the ear and moved him to the side just enough to pass without much effort. The click of the lock ended the conversation for good. 

Would he see Dino again in less than two weeks? Should he have rejoiced in Marvin's absence? Then his mind returned to the information that it had glossed over at first, 

"Am I one of the newcomers then?" he asked worriedly. 

Sean prepared him the best he could for the event with the simplest and most concise words, but knowing the details in advance would not have made being there and experiencing it firsthand less revolting. Trying to get rid of his premature fears, Ash asked,

"Do you meet him more often when you work at the club? Dino, I mean." 

"Um, not so much, but he comes in once a month on the 15th," Sean said with an opaque expression on his face.

"When did you last see him?" Ash further inquired. 

"The day he granted me these four months of rest from the club. I told you if he likes you there are only advantages," Sean concluded with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Ash struggled to see Dino and Sean together in the same room, but he didn't say it aloud.

***

_Papa Dino lit a cigar, glancing at his spotted orchids in the Chinese porcelain vase next to the window._

_"You're not that great." He decreed addressing the boy on the bed, who had brought the sheets to his chin in apprehension at hearing that judgment._

_When he received the offer, Dino made them bring the boy to estimate his value but frankly, he was disappointed._

_"How old are you, boy?"_

_"Thirteen, sir"_

It was already trash _, Dino said to himself. He doesn't mind getting rid of him for that amount._

_"I received an advantageous offer to sell you. Given the amount, I had expected who knows what, but to the best you're mediocre."_

_"And did you accept it?"_ _inquired Sean with a bit of enthusiasm, recovered from Dino’s previous contempt, now that he had heard the news._

_"Don't you want to know who made the offer?" Dino replied._

_He already knew who it was, that much was clear. It was not a genius, perhaps, but not as foolish as it seems, the boy._

_"I have a few loyal customers, it is not difficult to imagine who he is." the boy said in a low voice._

_"Few" was an exaggeration, but Papa Dino didn't correct him._

_"Would you like it if I accepted?"_ _he asked instead._

_Sean didn't answer immediately._

_"I will like what you like, sir."_

_He had more talent for words than for the bedroom, Dino thought. He had to admit that it was pleasant to tease him. So he asked,_

_"That Mr. Knot ... do you love him?"_

_Dino read it in his face that Sean wasn't expecting that question. But the boy recovered quickly._

_"What is love, sir?"_

_Was love what he did feel towards that idiot who, when he came to New York for work, would indulge in the whim of throwing a mountain of money to take him to the amusement park? Or take a boat ride? Or at a fashion show? Who persisted in ignoring what kind of profession Sean was in? Who continued to be scandalized by his foul-mouthed language, even after all this time? Was that love? Perhaps pity, wet and soft pity. While these thoughts crossed Sean's mind, Dino gave up answering the boy's question._

_"Still, I can't let you go yet." The boss said "The Goldfinch will leave the nest this week and the Great Tit is getting old"_

_"Will Chris leave us?" Sean couldn't help asking. Dino ignored him and continued,_

_"I'll send you a newbie to the Goldfish as soon as possible. Instruct him properly, you will be able to concentrate only on that task and, if you do a good job, I will conclude the deal when spring comes. Then you will go"_

_Sean didn't believe his ears. It was done, he thought. He raised his beaming head:_

_"Yes, sir!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you spoiled yourself with the original text? Did you notice the changes? For those who haven't, is the story going in the direction you expected at the beginning? Were the tags okay? Anyway, reviews and kudos mean a world to me, don't hold back, I promise I won't bite you! 😄 Until next time, take care!


	5. The second rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time again [INeedFelixFelicis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis) and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune) made the beta work. With fall approaching I can't guarantee more than one update a month, still aiming for two though. Declaimer: no reader was wounded during the interaction with the author 😂 Really, I hope nobody is holding back because I am scary. You can throw me anything: I have a thick skin.

_2.0 Play along with the role you are given_

* * *

The next day Ash followed Jack out of the apartment to go to the club. Sean had insisted on rubbing the lube because, in his opinion, you could never know, once you got out, if it would come in handy. Ash's grievances were of no use, he had to bend to Sean’s will. Jack had planned to go out earlier than usual and Sean had complained that they were leaving him to deal with the newspapers alone, but Jack had retorted that he needed a dress rehearsal before, that Sean should not bust his chops, and reminded Sean who brought home the bacon. Ash noticed that the tension between the two had been increasing in the last few days. Ash wondered if it had anything to do with Jack's return a few nights ago: the sound of the keys in the lockhole had lured Ash back into the hallway. Sean was already there — Ash guessed that he had been warned by phone. Jack came in, wrapped up in a camel-colored coat, the black cashmere scarf tied just below his nose. Sean took off Jack's coat, and just as he was about to take off Jack's scarf too, Jack didn't let him, so Sean burst out. 

"What’s wrong with you? Have you been out drinking? Don't be a child!" he said, with almost a motherly outrage. But Jack didn't make a sound. Then, since Sean did not give up on the scarf, but was instead trying to unroll it. 

"I'll do it myself, kiss-ass!" Jack protested.

"No need to bite my head off," replied Sean, pulling back.

Jack took off his scarf revealing three, no, four burns under his chin. Cigarettes. Sean asked if he had treated the burns. Jack answered that he had only dabbed them with a sponge soaked in water before leaving the club. Sean then ran to the bathroom to retrieve the antibacterial ointment and aloe vera gel from the first aid kit. One of the burns threatened to form a wart and it was a priority to prevent any sign of scarring.

"How did this happen?" Sean inquired after making Jack seat for the dressing, fixing a tight gauze around his neck. 

"I struck a false note while singing, Colonel Walrus Moustache didn't take it well." 

None of them heard their real name when they did their job: Jack was the Titmouse, Sean was Chick and Ash would have received his stage name soon enough. The boys, in return, took revenge in their own way for this identity dispossession, referring to the customers only with their nicknames in their absence, and the colonel mentioned above got one of the fanciest. The nicknames weren't listed anywhere, so Sean matched each new nickname with the real name for Ash to know, like on that occasion.

"Tomorrow, pay a visit to Dr. Striped Shrimp," suggested Sean. Then he had said goodnight and everyone went back to their own rooms.

Now, as they crossed the threshold and joined the passers-by on the street, Ash glanced at Jack's neck while Jack was staring at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. The marks on his skin had not faded away yet. Ash looked away and directed his eye to the ground as soon as Jack started to speak.

“Nobody filed a missing person’s report for you at the police. I have to deduce that even Griffin doesn't care about you."

Ash flinched at that name. The signal turned green. They began to cross the street. 

"How do you know my brother's name?"

Ash asked after a while and instinctively stopped on the last pedestrian strip to cross, as if he was refusing to go on without an answer. He was sure he hadn't told anyone he had a brother named Griffin.

"You talk in your sleep, Sean told me," Jack lied. In truth, up until a moment ago, he didn't know who Griffin was. He only guessed that he was someone important to Ash, since Ash had called out for him when he was in a trance. "So your brother has abandoned you," Jack concluded in a definitive tone. 

Ash was furious. He clenched his fists and exclaimed. "It's not true!"

"Ah, no? And where is he now?"

"He..." Ash was about to answer, but then he recognized the provocation for what it was and corrected himself. "Why should I tell you?"

"So I am the bad guy?” Jack asked with a laugh lapping against his lips. Then he added, "If this brother of yours isn't a piece of shit, you should run back to him."

Ash didn't know how to respond to that suggestion. They were now going through a park. Jack walked over to a bench, sat down and motioned for Ash to do the same. 

"Weren't you in a hurry to get to the club?" asked a puzzled Ash.

"It was a lie." Jack confessed and stuck his tongue out. 

Ash sat beside him as instructed.

“I wanted to talk to you face-to-face without Sean breathing down your neck. If you want to escape, better do it when Marvin is away. Chris did it, you know.”

_Wrong, Chris hadn't succeeded_ , Ash told himself, but he mused that maybe there was something true in Jack’s words, maybe Chris had tried to escape, but Marvin had caught him. And if Jack knew of his escape because he had helped him, he might even have passed on the information. Did he want to frame Ash in the same way? Ash decided that it was his turn to test Jack.

"Would you advise me to run away?" He infused as much disbelief as he was capable of in this question. 

"Yup."

The response was so plain and immediate that it left no room for interpretation. 

"Why don't _you_ run away then?" Ash retorted.

"I was born in this world and, when my time comes, here I’ll die. Sean is the son of a whore in Chicago. But you, you and Chris are different. You make me feel sick to the stomach.”

It was the first time Ash had heard such an intimate detail about Sean. However, the idea of making Jack feel sick to the stomach did not come as a novelty. On the contrary, it was almost a pleasant confirmation. Ash was subliminally pushed to return the favour.

"I don't know where my brother is and he certainly doesn't know where I am," he explained vaguely, making sure to give nothing away. 

"I can help you find him," offered Jack.

A domineering surge of hope stormed Ash at the thought of having found an ally, but he refrained himself.

“You lie too well for me to trust you, Jack. Take the story of the costume fittings," he said instead of jumping on board. Jack dramatically hit his forehead with his palm.

"Sorry, rule number two: always stay in your role, it's all a play. It’s because I was born in this world, whereas you are _not._ "

Ash felt he was being teased.

"And should I trust you for this reason? I don't even know if Jack is your real name!" he exclaimed.

"Stubborn, huh? Well, I guess I'll have to open up a little to you, my background is not a secret anyway, there’s no harm in you learning about it. Listen carefully then."

Ash was all ears.

"I was born in Los Angeles, my name is Jack Lo Maggio. My father was in the Sicilian mafia. He had become a big shot. When Dino set his eyes on certain businesses in the area, he made an alliance with the Sicilians and I was sent as a hostage, to guarantee the agreement. I was four years old at that time. For six years I lived as a guest at villa Golzine, where they passed me off as a maid's son. This is why I often ate in the kitchen, but, beside that, I went to school and all in all had a normal life.

“The villa was not much different from my home in LA: the mafias may have different names but they are all the same. But then, in Los Angeles a feud broke out with the Chinese. My clan was decimated, we lost many territories, my father lost everything. They killed him. At that point I was no longer needed. They would never allow me to affiliate with the Corsicans for fear that I would double-cross them by siding with the Sicilians. Never underestimate the call of the blood, or so they said. No one claimed me. It was Gregory who saved my life: he pleaded for me and so it was decided that the organ sale could wait, if I proved myself useful to the club. And I committed myself. 

“Yet, basically, I only delayed death. They don't like it when you reach puberty: my voice is changing, the titmouse won't be able to sing for long. But there is no other place I would like to go. One of these days they'll have me hospitalized for the operation and I won't wake up anymore. What do you expect me to say? It was all included in the ticket of my life."

Ash was at a loss for words. Organ trafficking, mafia feuds ... he figured out that he had fallen into a much larger pond than he had originally imagined. He had been so naïve as to think that the club was Papa Dino's only malfeasance. How wrong he was! Sean had never talked to him in this way. He had never even mentioned interests that went beyond the club. Ash had simply imagined that Chris in Detroit was doing something similar to what Marvin was doing in New York. But now he realised that there were a lot of variables he hadn't even considered at the beginning. 

"Did you help Chris escape, too?" Ash asked.

"Who? Me?" Jack responded with a defensive tone.

"Forget it," Ash said, taking the hint. If he had wanted to win his trust and then stab Ash in the back, Jack could have admitted that he had helped Chris. If Ash had informed Marvin or Dino, knowing that Jack had made the tip, he would have risked nothing. Instead, Jack had remained on the defensive.

“You and Sean had an argument. For what?" Ash asked.

"Nothing worth telling, Sean is a deluded fool, flabby butt and that's all." 

Jack didn't seem keen to add anything else, but by now Ash had made his decision and prayed that he wasn't wrong.

"Griffin Callenreese, missing in Vietnam," Ash said.

“Ooh, it's time to talk to some veterans then. At the club we never feel short of them, Dino has been courting the military for years," Jack said, getting up from the bench. 

A few minutes later they arrived at the entrance of the Club Cod. The exterior shared its resemblance with many other restaurants in the area: to mark the entrance, there were two bellied pots with evergreen plants, decorated with Christmas lights which twisted around their thin branches. The red characters forming the word " _Closed_ " were written on a tag hanging behind the glass. Ash had only gone a few steps ahead when Jack suddenly grabbed him by the hood of his sweatshirt. Unfortunately, Jack didn't stop Ash in time and the spiteful bell announcing their arrival rang. 

"Two blocks ahead there’s a park, wait for me there. I'll come and get you," Jack said, casting a sideways glance.

"I thought I had to attend the rehearsals," Ash said.

“And what do you think will happen if they see you fooling around? Some might think it's the right time to get a free blowjob.”

"So you will have all the fun alone? I wanna do that stuff!" Ash argued, lying. Now he felt it, the subtle pleasure that the lies provide. For a moment it seemed like Jack had fallen for it. It was an awesome feeling. 

Then Ash laughed and Jack joined him. 

Ash left without turning, while someone in a tuxedo opened the door of the club and asked, sullenly, if it was all right for Ash to leave.

“I sent him to buy cigarettes,” Jack lied without betraying the slightest hesitation.

_2.1 Foosball_

* * *

It was cold outside, too cold to obey Jack blindly. They were in the middle of December and after the first half-hour without gloves, Ash's hands had started to become numb. He stuck them in his jacket pockets, rubbing them against the padding in search of relief and looked once more at the park alley. A woman with a beige felt cloche was pushing a stroller with her baby. The baby looked too old not to stand up and take a timid stroll, but too little for a full-blown walk. He was offering the woman a bite of his lollipop, and she pretended to indulge him by biting the air beside the colored disc, making him laugh. Ash felt the cold prick his chest with renewed vigor. 

He realised that he had to quickly find a more sheltered place than that bench, from which he could keep an eye on the north entrance of the park, the closest to Club Cod. He headed towards that access point, detouring around a man whose gait was ungraceful and zigzagging as he grappled with the leashes of two uncooperative dogs. Behind him, Ash spotted a couple of kids climbing a somewhat rough granite staircase, on top of which stood a sign similar in style to a graffiti that advertised "Bibò". If he had to guess, Ash said to himself, it had to lead to the place of business with the large windows on the second floor. It looked like a bar or something of the sort. From there he could observe the park while staying indoors. He had enough money in his pocket for a coke—if that was a bar. In the past few days, Marvin had reacted to Ash's increasing collaboration and compliance by occasionally emptying the pockets of change as a tip, and Ash, on Sean's advice, had started to fill a tin piggy bank when Marvin repeated the gesture for the second time. But he was always carrying a few coins on him for situations like this. 

Ash was not mistaken. The interior of the place was quiet, with few occupied seats. Fairly clean and, despite the entrance, not as picturesque as the sign had suggested to him. He went over to the counter and ordered a coke. He grabbed his drink and straw and sat at one of the tables next to a tall unadorned window, ensuring the best possible view of the park. 

At the next table, two elderly gentlemen were discussing sports news and one of them was pointing to a photo of the newspaper between them. Then, their voices were submerged by the bright tones of an altercation that was taking place in the back. Following the voices of the three quarrelers, Ash recognized the two he had seen enter before him.

"Shouldn't you admit Bones had wet himself?" yelled a guy with spiky blonde hair resembling the quills of a hedgehog. "When Wookie saw him yesterday he was as strong as a horse!"

"I told you that it's _today_ that he woke up with a running fever. His mother does not let him step out of bed," replied one of the boys that Ash had not seen enter, a long-haired guy wearing denim overalls. "I'm sorry Frederick, but we have to put it off for another time," he concluded.

"Alex, fibs, all fibs!" replied the furious blonde, pressing his finger against the other boy's bib. The latter reacted by trying to grab the blond boy's hand, who quickly withdrew it though.

"So what do you suggest? We are listening!" said the boy named Alex, rolling a knob that came out of the table and crossing his arms over his chest. At the gesture, Ash noticed the strange thingamajig behind them: the four blue handles, similar to screwdriver ones, coming out from the side of a wooden table.

"He's right, you can't expect him to play alone," cut in the black boy beside the blondie.

"Not you too, Wookie!"

Frederick silenced him, but it was clear that he was running out of ideas. He scratched the back of his neck with his left hand and turned on himself, like in search of inspiration. His eyes met Ash's, who instantly turned his away to refocus them on the road below, beyond the glass. Too late. A few moments later the blondie joined him.

"Hey, you, what's your name?" he asked without any preamble. The other two joined him right away. 

"Have we met before?" Ash asked, raising an eyebrow. The boy stank of troubles and Ash already had his fair share of them. 

"Ok, ok, angel face, don't get cocky. I'm Frederick, he's Wookie and that's Alex," said the blondie pointing to the two boys next to him. "We need a fourth player, are you joining?" he asked, straightaway like a shot. 

"To play what?" Ash inquired.

"Foosball," answered Frederick.

"I can't play and I don't want to," Ash replied flatly and turned to the window to indicate that the conversation was over.

Frederick did not take it well. He grabbed the coke can and threw what was left of its contents at Ash's face. Now, it was Ash's turn to get mad. He got up and threw himself against Frederick, venting way more than the anger for that rude gesture alone. Frederick lured him to the back of the room. It would have taken the barman too much to reach the two of them if he ever tried. When he would be up to stop the boys from fighting it would have been already over. Frederick had pinned Ash down and smashed his right cheek against the floor while Ash struggled in vain. The self-defense lessons were designed to get rid of the attackers and flee, since the kids in the club often had to wander the streets alone at night. Ash had to grudgingly admit that they were practically ineffective, if his attacker's intent was to hurt him, not just rape him, while Ash's intent was to attack and not to defend himself.

"Now you're not going to refuse, are you?" hissed a ferocious Frederick. Ash had insulted him. In those weeks his repertoire of cursing words had recorded a dizzying increment and he could not imagine a more fitting situation to show them off. Frederick did not seem impressed.

"Then?" he insisted threateningly.

"Frederick, let him go," Alex begged him. "It means that I will forfeit it to you," he added with a tone almost an octave below.

"And will you jump naked in the Hudson as we betted?" asked Frederick. A second of hesitation was enough for another voice to beat Alex's time:

"I'll play," Ash said, taking everyone aback.

"What?" Frederick's marvelled interjection indicated all his irritation for the interruption.

"I said that I'll play, are you deaf? Get off my back, slob!" Ash repeated, freeing himself as soon as Frederick loosened his grip. "But you have to explain the rules to me," he added, getting up on his feet. 

They reached the table and Ash could observe it more closely while Alex explained to him the rules. Apparently, since it was a French model, the boys seemed thrilled to have found one of its kind in that bar thanks to word-of-mouth. American tables were usually designed for outdoor play, so the plastic structure did not provide an optimal gaming experience. The one they were facing was made of oak, with telescopic bars, which therefore ensured to not accidentally hit the opponent's most _exposed_ parts. The red and blue foos men arranged on four bars were made of aluminum, and at the corners, the ramps prevented the ball from ending up standstill. To brag about the merits of this hidden gem in front of a newcomer seemed to be a temptation that the boys couldn't resist.

"Mind you, that also applies to you, little angel. If you lose, you'll join your buddy in the river," Frederick reminded Ash as if Frederick expected him to throw a tantrum. Ash ignored him. 

"There are ten balls, the team that suffers a goal gets to play the next ball. Whoever scores the first six goals has practically won the match, since the comeback is impossible." Alex explained to him.

Then Wookie went on to illustrate the fouls to Ash, and finally they started the game. Alex played in defence while Ash played in attack. Turns out, playing foosball wasn't exactly easy. But Ash wasn't going to let the little armless player rebel to his touch—those figures had no will of their own, right? He could do it, he wouldn't give in to them. Ash focused on it to the best of his ability.

Own goal.

"How cold do you think the water will be, Freddie?" asked Wookie. 

Frederick burst into laughter. He sensed the victory already in his grip and he didn't bother to hide his smirk. Ash took a long breath. 

"It's just the first one, relax,” Alex reminded him. “ _You_ 're the one ordering them around, not the other way around."

The boy could not have known how deeply these words had heartened Ash. Nonetheless, Frederick's team scored the second goal. Frederick and Wookie started chatting to each other as if they were alone.

"My father promised me a Swiss knife, one of the good ones, for Christmas. I'm looking forward to it!" Frederick said to his friend.

"We have scored three goals already! Are you going to give up?" chuckled Wookie. Ash put the ball back into play.

"Is your sister with you for Christmas?" asked Wookie.

"Yes, I am celebrating New Year's Eve at my mother's though. But you'd better keep out of her whereabouts, bro," answered Frederick.

"Are you sure they didn't switch you at birth? To be twins you don't seem alike neither in appearance nor in character, you know," Wookie teased him.

"Watch your mouth, my sister is very sweet," Frederick replied, offended. Fourth goal.

"I have never said otherwise, man," Wookie replied. Frederick was speechless and took his lumps.

"I'm not grouchy, me, you're the one who brings out the worst in me!" Frederick yelled in his defence as he found his voice again. 

Wookie could not think of any playful remark at that point, his attention had been drawn to the foosball table and he was speechless for a totally different reason. They had suffered their first goal.

_2.2 The father's pride, the son's pride_

* * *

(Flop and clang)

**_4 to 2_ **

(Flop and clang)

**_5 to 2_**

(Flop and clang)

**_5 to 3_ **

(Flop and clang)

**_5 to 4_ **

Alex and Ash had made an astonishing comeback. Frederick ordered Wookie to swap roles and moved to defence. Everything would be decided with the last ball.

***

The Club Cod had a deceptive appearance: the hall accessible from the entrance was very ordinary. The shady activities took place below, in the two underground floors equipped with a powerful ventilation system, one floor was occupied by large soundproofed rooms in cloying shocking pink. In there, exuberant laces adorned the bedspreads and cameras hidden in strategic points were set to record every compromising activity. They were called the ‘alcoves of love’, 'VIP rooms' or ‘cubicles of good reception’, but each of these sugary names, like the ostentatiously romantic decor, only served to conceal the actual squalor of the carnal trade that took place in there. The other floor was something between a nightclub and a theatre: on one side there were round tables, sofas in the stalls, and the electric blue signs. On the other side, there was the stage with a red velvet curtain adjacent to the foyer, which was mainly used as a smoking room, and the dressing rooms on the opposite side of the stage. 

Each descending step seemed to lead towards the bowels of the Earth. No emergency exits were waiting for the patrons; in case of a devastating earthquake or fire, they would face a rat's death. However, behind the scenes, an elevator was there for the exclusive use of the owner. Therefore, no one should be surprised when its doors opened with a metallic sound and a ding of bell: the identity of the visitor was clear to all. 

Dino Golzine used the elevator only when he was not accompanied by guests, and he did not usually make meaningless visits; if he had come, it was to talk business. Which one was a different matter. Anyone would have gladly given anything in the world to understand it before the others so they could protect themselves from the reversals of fortune. Because in that place, it was Papa Dino who decided everyone's fate. He, who turned the wheel without wearing any bandage on his eyes. 

Everyone hurried to pay their respects to him, in a profusion of thanks for his patronage. They were failed entrepreneurs and show business cheaters, willing to educate the kids on the art of staging, ready to turn a blind eye towards the reason the young boys were performing there. Dino, like someone who arose victoriously from the gaming table and gracefully turned away those who swore to have brought him luck, like those as well who begged him for an obol of generosity, had shaken them off quickly. He turned to the head of security and asked: 

"Where's the Titmouse?"

"Dressing room three, sir," the man answered promptly. 

Dino went to the aforementioned dressing room, ordered everyone to go out and leave him alone with the boy. Jack had false eyelashes applied on one eyelid alone, because the makeup artist had left him in the lurch as soon as she heard Dino's order to clear the room. There was something involuntarily comic about Jack's face when he turned around, still seated on the stool and asked:

"Was _Vossia_ looking for me?"

Dino closed the door behind himself and said, "I received the telephone records of Rosemary's pub today and apparently a call was made on November 22nd to the Goldfish house. Do you know anything about it?" 

"Rosemary's? Never heard of it. Maybe it was Chick who took the call," the boy replied, scratching his forehead.

"It couldn't have been him, he was busy at that time. Only you were there."

Jack frowned. "On the 22nd? Thursday?"

Dino stared at him in silence.

“It may have been the day the Goldfinch called. I didn't know where he was calling from though."

"What did you talk about?" Dino asked him.

"He asked me if he had forgotten something of his in the apartment."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, he didn't mention anything in particular." 

"And then?"

"Then nothing, we joked about how inhospitable the Detroit guys were, stuff like that."

"He didn't say anything else?"

"No. Did something happen?" Jack asked anxiously.

“Chris hasn't been seen since the 22nd. The Rosemary's pub is one of the closest pubs to his hideout in Detroit. It looks like you're the last to have talked to him. Is there really nothing you'd like to tell me, Jack?" 

Dino peered at him at an inch from his nose. Jack shivered with joy at hearing his name. 

"Yes, there is something," the boy said and after a split second he added, "I missed you."

Dino grabbed him by the nose and threatened, "Don't ramble!"

"He sounded agitated. Really, I don't know anything else," the boy said in a nasal tone. Dino let go of Jack's nose and stroked his cheek.

"Better for you," Dino said and found himself looking at the burn scars on his neck. "If your father saw you now he would never forgive me."

His eyes were glassy and Jack knew that this was maybe the only expression, other than anger and annoyance, that could be detected on Dino's face.

"My father cannot see me. 'Out of sight, out of mind' is the saying, isn't it? But I still remember my father's words: ‘Observe and learn from Mr. Golzine’. I have admired everything about you since when I was a child. Even before you …" his voice trailed off when he nuzzled his cheek into Dino's palm, closing his eyes, his false eyelashes in risk of falling off due the contact. 

Dino pulled his hand away.

"It has been a long time since you have called for your Titmouse. Do you too feel disgust for my hair?" the boy complained like a beaten puppy. Dino was still looking down on him. "If only you let me whisper to you the sweet talk you long for!" he continued, captivating and sensual, standing up from the stool. The message was clear, although veiled. Information. What did he have to offer him this time?

"I am listening," said Dino.

"No. To whisper to you I have to be closer," Jack protested. _Arrogant,_ Dino thought. 

Dino would have liked to get him drunk at the chalice of submission, make him tremble on his knees beneath him, dominate that cheeky demon. He pushed Jack down on the stool again. With his fingers, he pressed the burn marks on Jack's neck, who bit his lower lip and licked over it.

"Speak," Dino commanded.

" _Vossìa_ will have to pull the words out of my mouth, I told you." 

Dino thought that he _did_ want to go along with him, after all.

***

"It is eating me raw that we haven't won. Looks like I've run out of luck when it comes to games lately. I don't think I've ever been superstitious, but I'm starting to have doubts about my beliefs," said a discouraged Ash in front of another can of coke at the same table of the Bibò he had been sitting at earlier. First Dino, and now Frederick, he should have thought twice before placing any other bet. This bad luck had to end sooner or later. _No, bad luck doesn't exist_ , he told himself. He heard Griffin's words echo within him, the warm and caring tone with which, while pushing Ash on the swing several years earlier, he had sworn that he would have given 15 minutes of hell to anyone who dared to insinuate that his little brother brought bad luck.

Ash had not yet dared to take a sip from his can.

"What are you saying? Didn't you say it was the first time you ever played? You scored all those goals in your first match. That's crazy! And to think that Frederick had been training for weeks!" said Alex, sitting in front of him. 

"But we haven't won," Ash bemoaned.

“We've tied the score, which means no one will have to bathe in the freezing river. Heck, don't you realise how exceptional it is? Would I be treating you for a coke otherwise?" Alex explained with all the patience he had. Finally Ash decided on drinking. A quarter of an hour ago when their scores were tied, Wookie had spat on the ground, Frederick had cursed and they had both gone away noisily, promising revenge to Alex whose large grin refused to fade. 

"Those two will come back to break windows like the sore losers they are though," Ash said sadly.

"If they want to even it out in this way, we will be ready to welcome them, you'll see," Alex assured him. "Do you want to join us?" he proposed. 

"I think I have had enough," Ash answered, declining the invitation. 

"What a pity!" commented Alex "I think you would have a future in foosball, you know. But, wait a minute, I still don't know who it's that I should thank today. What's your name? How old are you?"

Ash paused for a moment, on the fence about what he should reveal. He looked away from the clear and cordial gaze of his interlocutor, as to hide his shame before replying, "I'm eleven."

"Like me!" the other boy said excitedly.

"My name is Ash."

***

"Callenreese. C-A-L-L-E-N-R-E-E-S-E." Jack spelled the letters one by one, whispering in Dino's ear. "No relative. He ended up on the street like a lost cat. Nothing for _Vossia_ to worry about," He said.

"I see."

"Have I not been good enough?"

The question was ambiguous. Dino had an indecipherable grimace on his face. 

“I remember when you were returning to the villa with your notebook flat open to show me the scores the teacher gave you. You used to run up to the gazebo back then," Dino said instead.

"Are you trying to make me blush?" Jack asked, stopping to move in the moment his face was hidden by the shirt he was putting on.

"Do I have any reason to?"

"What I remember instead, are the compliments that you rained on me back then, whereas now you have become very stingy with them," the boy said half-seriously, emerging from his shirt and avoiding to answer the latter question. "Nobody could understand you better than me. I have lost a father, _Vossìa_ has lost a son. If only..."

Dino did not let him speak further, claiming his lips. 

***

From the window of the Bibò, Ash saw Jack's silhouette heading towards the park entrance blessed with the golden rays of the setting sun. He jumped up, interrupting the flow of Alex's speech.

"What's up?" the boy asked, confused to see that Ash was putting on his jacket in the middle of their conversation.

"My brother has come to get me. I have to go now," Ash explained, speaking quickly, following the script talk used for those out of the game. He swooped out, while Alex shouted behind him that he would return to the Bibò with Bones again, that Bones certainly would have liked to thank him for today. He added that they would keep coming, at least until Ash showed up there again. Only half of this information reached Ash's ears, unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Vossìa_ /vɔs'siːa/ is Sicilian for Your Lordship.   
> Any comment is welcome. Until next time, take care!


	6. The third rule (1/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I'll have to thank my betas [INeedFelixFelicis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis) and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune). Enjoy!

_ 3.0 Nothing is free _

* * *

The 19th of December, a Wednesday, had passed by cutting drug stocks (cocaine intended for New Year's Eve parties). They also wrapped "promotional" VHS tapes for Club Cod customers. They had been so busy that Ash had not been allowed to poke his nose out of the apartment in the last two days. So that when evening had come, he put on his jacket, pulled up the blinds and curled up to get some fresh air in that tiny balcony on which it was forbidden to stay during the day. The apartment was uninhabited. No effort was too much when it came to prevent the unsuspecting passers-by from doubting it. 

The view overlooked the rubble of the South Bronx and the scene could have been mistaken for that of a bombed city in the Second World War. Just two years earlier, the broadcaster of the match between the Yankees and the Dodgers, commenting on the aerial shot of the Yankees Stadium, had drawn his spectators' attention to the flames that flared up shamelessly in the Bronx. The fires in those years were a means to collect insurance premiums and were far from infrequent. 

Ash did not look down on those shreds of walls that some haggard lamppost below was still illuminating. He looked upward to the sky. His gaze traveled toward the location of Orion, the constellation that had been shining peacefully in the south for centuries. How long had it been since he had last uttered his evening prayers at the window as Griffin had instructed him? Was there any point in doing it now? He chased off the thought and looked for Ursa Major instead. Having identified Dubhe and Merak, he followed the straight imaginary line linking them. Continuing upwards, his gaze stopped on the North Star in Ursa Minor. Griffin had taught him everything he knew about the constellations. 

It was Griffin who had told him, like the poet he was, the story of how the bear, who was once a beautiful nymph, was about to be killed by her own son on the hunt. The son, in fact, could not recognize her in that animal form. Griffin told how the gods, moved by pity, had turned them both to the two Bears to avoid a matricide. Ash felt boundless sympathy for Arcas, the boy who never got to meet his mother in her human form. 

Ash could not help wondering if he himself had changed so much that his mother, if she ever met him, wouldn't be able to recognize him. That evening he thought again of that ancient myth. If even one of the many photos they had taken of him lately ended up in his mother's hands, would it have been different for her from spotting a bear? Wouldn't she crumple the photo in disgust, letting it fall to the ground like the carcass of a bear hit in its vital points? Who was the bear between them then? Where did the stocky legs, long snouts, small rounded ears and shaggy hair come from anyway? It was these photos' fault! They had sucked his soul bit by bit, leaving his core being exposed to the obscure forces which incessantly shape the matter. It was supposed to be her though, according to the story. If she were, then… how and when had he become an inconsistent mirror reflection to her reality? A two-dimensional lifeless image frozen in horror on the surface of an invisible bevelled slab?

The pungent night air thrust Ash back into reality. The same reality where Jack was confident about finding a trail by asking Sergeant Major McCandless (Bong for the boys). That client had booked a service on the 23rd of the current month. So Ash had overcome the temptation to run away, putting Jack through a lot of trouble. The reason was simple. He hoped to get news of Griffin soon. He had exhausted all his mental energy in overcoming daily obstacles and humiliations. As a consequence, Ash hadn't been pouring much thought into a practical escape plan. 

In those days, for Ash it had become clear that being pushy, taking the initiative with improvised action could turn out highly counterproductive. Marvin and the other guys were patrolling the neighborhood. Even if at the moment Marvin was absent and the surveillance had consequently become milder, Ash lacked the money to run away. He wasn't sure how far he would have to go for them to give up chasing after him. In a nutshell, it meant that he really needed a plan. 

"Ash, are you there?" Sean asked and joined him at the balcony before Ash even answered, but he immediately regretted it and ran back inside to wrap himself up with something suitable. 

Ash had seen Sean walk around the house a little earlier with the radio stuck to his ear, lost in the music. Even now, while sitting next to him, Sean mumbled a happy tune. Ash was thinking that he should study the maps, the trains timetables and, more generally, the means of transport, if he wanted to plan an escape.

“ _ Escape _ .”

"Huh?" Ash reacted, fearing suddenly that Sean had somehow become able to read people's mind. 

“It is the hit of the moment. Rupert Holmes' single, how can you not recognize it?"

"Ah!" Ash said, releasing a sigh of relief and masking it as if he had only in that moment fallen from his clouds. Then, he asked, 

"Sean, have you ever tried to escape?"

“Me? Nah, but one of the Jungle tried and it was horrendous.”

"Jungle?"

“Another house, there was no place here and they'd put me with Hispanics at the beginning.”

"And…?"

"He was caught again and they ordered us to beat him until his sweat had blended with his blood. Those who refused to do so would end up sharing his punishment. We didn't see him for a whole week after that, but he came back meek as a lamb. Nobody ever knew what he went through during that week, he never answered any questions about it.”

"And Chris, has he ever tried to escape?"

"No, he is a smart guy, what do you think?" Sean replied, he sounded resentful as if he took personal offense to the insinuation that Chris might ever do something as stupid as run away.

“Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment and, while we sit here talking about him, he is having a great time somewhere in the tropics, in spite of the Octopus and his henchmen,” Ash ventured to lay out a scenario, entering dangerous waters. 

Octopus stood for Dino Golzine. Ash had cautiously avoided Chris's name lately. Yet, Sean was the only one with whom he could find out whether Chris was the type to escape as Jack had let him believe. So he dared to ask. 

"I doubt it. Rather, confess! You've not given up yet on the idea of making a run for it and you keep thinking about fleeing!" Sean said, trying to sound funny and failing. 

"Surprised?" Ash said sourly. 

It was inevitable. That topic would come up sooner or later and Sean expected it. All of them had to pass by that moment when everyone recognizes that one cannot escape one's destiny. It could be a very depressing experience, but Sean had discovered that it could also be sort of liberating. When it is destiny, you don't have to prove to anyone that you deserve it. When it is destiny, opportunities continue to reappear until you take one of them. Sean was far from figuring out why Ash seemed so obsessed about Chris. He thought, instead, that it had something to do with finding the safest way to flee.

"No, not at all. I'm just saying there is only one safe route to get out of this business unharmed."

This statement piqued Ash's interest. He had no idea that their conversation would lead there. Was it possible that he could find something far more valuable than the information he had initially been searching for? That the solution to all his troubles was under his nose, but he had missed it until then? He swallowed and waited for Sean to drop the bomb. 

“If it is destiny, you will meet someone who will take care of you even staying here, living the life we do. The best ones always find a way, if you could somehow win the Octopus over, it would be preferable, right? You just have to wait for the right opportunity to come along. Destiny always finds us.”

There are times when the bear hangs out looking for honey, like the sweet-tooth beggar it has always been. And thus it stumbles on some hindrance and gets enraged. Right then Ash shut his eyes for an instant, breathed in and spoke. 

"Marvin told me that another boy arrived at the Goldfish earlier than me. He ended up strangled a few days later during an erotic game, because they tightened a belt too much. And Jack says they'll sell his organs soon. Are you telling me all of that is  _ fate _ , Sean?"

The tone of Ash's voice had become increasingly heartfelt. His eyes shone with sinister sparkling green.

“Destiny crushes anyone who rebels. That's what happened to Paul. I wouldn't worry ahead of time about Jack, to determine what his fate is,” Sean explained unfazed. Then added, “And while we're at it, I will leave with Mr. Knot in spring. You might know it as well, better now than later.”

"Are you telling me that the Sore Thumb is your destiny, Sean?" Ash asked, surprised in spite of his best intentions.

***

_ As soon as they told Sean that Mr. Knot had asked for him again, he could scarcely believe it. Gregory on the phone seemed to be in the mood for joking around. He told him that whoever had taken the order had faced some hard time: the customer kept asking him "that one from the other time". But the other time had been months ago. The data were, as always, archived at the end of the month. It was impossible to find out who served him the last time. He kept asking about Adonis and refused to listen to reason when they told him that there was no Adonis there.  _

_ Sean bit his finger listening to this story: maybe because Chick was not exactly a sexy name, or maybe because he was sure that he would never meet Mr. Knot again, or, better, because it would have been not advisable to meet him again. The fact was that he had gone away without telling his customer his stage name. And that was the disastrous outcome. The riddle was solved only when Mr. Knot mentioned the memorable detail of the thirty-three red rose bouquet followed by the name of Kippard.  _

_ Then Gregory turned serious and reminded Sean that last time they had ruled out the procedure. Every customer had to sign up to use the services wherever they wanted, so this time he would meet the customer at the club. Sean knew what it meant. Gregory informed him of the timetable and hung up. _

_ When Richard opened the door, he found in the room a four-poster bed with cream and red heart-shaped pillows and Sean sitting there, waiting for him. As the man stepped in, Sean got up and bowed. _

_ “My carelessness caused you some inconveniences during the ordering process. I am deeply mortified,” the boy began and the harsh tones of his voice traveled through the air together with the scent of bergamot.  _

_ Bent almost at a right angle, face completely turned to the floor, Sean seemed entirely different to Richard. What happened to the rascal he had met the last time? Right then he didn't know what to say.  _

_ "Last time I was a little impudent, I'll understand if you want to punish me for that." _

_ Richard was so taken aback by Sean's words that he finally found his voice again,  _

_ “Punish? The clothes I fixed that time are the ones I sold the most! It may sound silly but I think you brought me luck. I wanted to thank you, that's why I asked for you, but they told me that I could only meet you here.” _

_ Sean, moved to tears, felt the blood whipping in his veins. He straightened his torso and showed a crack under his mask.  _

_"Maybe it sounds silly because it's silly!"_ _Sean scolded him, unable to restrain himself anymore._

 _"Why are you angry?"_ _Richard exclaimed, spreading his arms out of incredulity. Sean walked firmly towards him. When he faced Richard, Sean unexpectedly embraced his torso. Richard started to back away, but Sean squeezed hard and spoke under his breath._

_ "Why do you think they didn't charge you today? There's nothing free in this world. You're a fool if you haven't realised that. Hold me.” _

_ Richard was frightened. He obeyed. _

_“What do they want from me? What should I do?"_ _he whispered as if he were in a church._

 _"Nothing. Look at the mirror in front of you and stay still, leave the rest to me,”_ _Sean whispered in turn. The camera beyond the fake mirror filmed the slightest change of expression on Richard's face as Sean got down to work._

_ 3.1 The Wildcat _

* * *

_ It wasn't like him to have a guilty conscience, Sean thought. He had certainly gone too far in acting as if Richard risked his life. If Richard had run out of the room, it would have been embarrassing. They might have made fun of him, they might have asked him to drop a few bucks for bothering them. But killed? It was out of the question. At the very least, for the trouble of hiding the corpse afterwards. They would have threatened him that if he spoke to someone about what he saw, he would regret it. Perhaps they would have bothered him at his workplace in an attempt to intimidate him. They certainly would not have killed him; at least, if he abstained from doing other idiocies.  _

_ It would have been an entirely different situation for Sean, on the other hand. For one thing, he would have been held responsible for Mr. Knot's escape. Secondarily, he would have to deal with the consequences of the revelation that he hadn't done his "duty" the last time. There was no way they wouldn't believe that he had tried to cheat everyone by making them think God knows what. Considering all the ways it could have turned out, he said to himself that no, he shouldn't feel guilty for the idiot that had come back to look for him, risking ruining the masterpiece of the previous meeting. Thanking him, my foot!  _

_ Luckily it had been easy to scare him enough to make him do as Sean wanted. Richard had been out of his element there at the club and Sean had taken advantage of this. Besides, Sean justified to himself, it wasn't as if he had kicked Richard in the butt. He had worked diligently. What did Richard have to complain about, since he only had to stand still as a mannequin? Sean had done all the work. He had done a good job, perhaps even better than the other times. Nevertheless he had risked being blinded by Richard's frantic motions.  _

_ Richard's reaction had reminded Sean of when he had tried to change his little brother's diaper for the first time. His mother, busy with a "guest", had ignored the baby's cries. Sean, in the adjoining room, had been there struggling to close the flaps of the diaper. In the meanwhile the baby played and mercilessly pulled Sean's fringe. In the same way Richard had pushed back Sean's forehead. His thumb had ended dangerously close to Sean's eye.  _

_ Yes, it had been indeed as if he had to babysit that man. Richard should have said thank you and for good this time, Sean finally decreed to himself. But since Mr. Knot was unpredictable, Sean highly doubted that the man had asked to meet Sean a third time with this intention. Whatever Richard had been thinking when he had spun away last time, without saying anything except for asking Sean's name, was difficult to guess. Had Richard not shown clearly enough on the past occasion that his logic was falling apart? The time before too, as Sean thought back to it, Richard hadn't been any wiser about his actions. And so, after having basked in scruples, he had chased them all away triumphantly. While heading towards the rendezvous point chosen by the designer - the Macy's department store - Sean found himself dreading what gimmick his client was going to show this time.  _

_ It turned out that Sean was supposed to accompany him to the Perry Ellis International opening buffet on Fashion Avenue. Surely Sean had learned not to argue about how his clients decided to spend the time they had paid for. Not questioning was even easier for him this time, since Richard showed up with a chocolate donut for him in a Havana kraft paper envelope. _

_"Do you have any idea how many calories there are in this godforsaken food?"_ _Sean complained before biting into it voraciously. Richard smiled smugly. As they walked down Seventh Avenue, Richard spoke to him, his tone warm and paternal:_

_ "I would like you to meet a person. Her name is Andrea De Mille, she works for a modeling agency. She wrote to me that she would come to the inauguration." _

_"Another client?"_ _Sean asked pragmatically._

 _"No, no, no. This is no place to meet your guests,"_ _Richard rushed to deny. “I think that if she took a liking to you, she could help you quit the job you do right now. The agency might want to sign you."_

_ It seemed that Richard wasn't planning to comment on their last encounter. He skipped the topic altogether. Sean felt that he really brought the designer out of his comfort zone. He wasn't expecting this turn though. Heck, he couldn't believe how naïve this guy was. An alarm was going off in Sean's head, blaring like a police siren.  _

_"Fat chance!"_ _the boy replied coldly. Seeing Sean lick his chocolate-stained fingers like any other normal child, Richard's heart ached._

_ "I don't want to force you, but what's the problem with just meeting her? I would like to ask her for legal advice about how to proceed." _

_ Damn it! It wasn't going well, Sean told himself. The man's actions had gotten out of his control. Sean decided to change his strategy. _

_“Richard, honey, if you'd like to introduce me to her, I'll meet her for you. Still, don't tell her anything about my situation, okay? You will let me decide how I want to talk about my own life, won't you?"_ _Sean said condescendingly._

 _"Quite right,"_ _Richard agreed. Sean heaved a sigh of relief at narrowly escaping that perilous situation._

 _"How do you intend to justify my presence next to you though?"_ _the boy asked, playing with the button on Richard's cuff. Richard made a puzzled face._

_ "Nobody would buy it if you say that I'm your son, and I'm too young to be your employee." Doing mental maths while showing a soft, innocent face was a craft in itself, as Richard became aware of in that moment looking at Sean.  _

_"I have a cousin in Florida,"_ _Richard reasoned aloud, averting his gaze. "She has a son, the same age as you. His name is Nathan Venier."_

 _"Let's go for Nathan then,"_ _Sean said, smiling. Then, Richard wondered how many times the boy had already changed his name on others' request. Richard could no longer stop the urge of asking,_

_ "You are not Adonis, nor Chick. What's your true name?" _

_"Nathan,"_ _Sean lied in a flat tone._

_ "Huh? Don't tell me—" _

_"Shall we go?"_ _Sean said while pulling him by the cuff, cutting the line of questioning short. And the matter had been dropped with nonchalance, leaving no trace that it had ever been discussed, the same way a snowflake falls to the ground and melts._

***

_ Perry Ellis had gone big with the party, the showroom was packed with guests and there was something for everyone's taste at the buffet. Richard showed the invitation at the entrance. He commented to himself that it was a good idea to have sent the boy a complete outfit to wear on that occasion. He had chosen a pair of form-fitting, plaid beige trousers, a white button-up (the top buttons left fashionably unbuttoned), a blue & green plaid cardigan with a red K stitched on the right breast, and a beige plaid baseball cap with a black visor to top it all off. Richard was quite satisfied with how Sean looked in the outfit. _

_ Mr. Ellis was at the center of a crowd, boasting about winning the Coty Award next year. Sean and Richard both ate a canapé, mirroring each other, and shortly thereafter, Richard spotted Miss De Mille in the crowd. _

_"Andrea is over there,"_ _he said to Sean. "Come on, let's go say hello to her!"_

 _"You go ahead, I'll take a glass of orange juice and join you after that, Uncle,”_ _Sean said, not even remotely psyched at the prospect of introducing himself. He walked to the corner, where various jugs filled with different juices were laid out to help himself to a glass. In the meanwhile Richard crossed the room and waved to Andrea De Mille and Tommy Hilfiger at her side. Once he reached the table, Sean excused himself to another guest who was in the way between him and the jug he wanted to grab._

 _"It's a pleasure to see you, Richard! How long has it been?"_ _exclaimed the woman with long frizzy black hair and an ostentatious pair of glasses. "Did you hear the latest news about Tommy?"_ _she went on without waiting for an answer. "Perry offered him to join his team! Isn't that sensational?" Richard couldn't help but think that her voice had the talent to rival the most annoying ringtones, even when her words were harmless._

 _"Don't start celebrating just yet, Andrea. I have yet to accept the offer,"_ _Tommy corrected her._

 _"Nice touch!"_ _Richard commented with a whistle and a pat on the man's back, then laughed. In the showroom buzzing with chatter, the three of them gossiped about the upcoming season and what trends they expected to see on the runways. At some point Andrea asked Richard,_

_ "Where's the boy you wanted to introduce to me, Richard?" _

_ "Oh, right. Nathan hasn't joined us yet, has he? How long does it take to get a glass of orange juice?" he answered and started scanning the crowd to spot Sean, but he didn't see him anywhere. _

_"Richard?"_ _Andrea asked as he frowned._

 _"Don't go anywhere, Andrea, I'll go look for him,"_ _he said sharply and left his friends to go back to the drinks table. But no, Sean wasn't there either. He checked the other tables. He began asking around if they had seen a young blond boy wearing a beige baseball cap. Finally the person in charge of collecting the invitations told him that he had seen the boy go out shortly before in the company of a gentleman._

_ Richard, already worried, now started panicking. What had happened to the boy? He couldn't understand Sean's behavior. He fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out Club Cod's business card. He hurried outside, grabbed the first public telephone he could find, and dialled the number, anxious to communicate that the boy was gone. On the other side of the receiver, they made sure to ask for every piece of information about Sean's sudden escape and thanked him for informing them. Sean had disappeared with the stealth of a stray cat on its hushed paws. _

_ *** _

While in other parts of the city people went out to go to Christmas Eve mass, another kind of night procession was taking place in Queens and the Bronx. The boys of the various houses belonging to the Corsican mafia were heading to the gym of a well-known high school, which was closed for the holidays and whose principal owed some favors to Dino Golzine. 

Dino's henchmen directed the boys to the locker rooms where they would change, wear red lace underpants and a Santa Claus hat, enter the unheated gym and sit in a circle on the basketball court along the three-point line. Under the basket, Gregory held open a huge sack and Papa Dino stood in his best suit on Gregory's left. The boys huddled close to each other, desperately searching for some warmth. 

Then, one of the many men who stood on the outskirts of the boys' circle made them stand up one at a time. And one at a time they walked towards Dino. The latter took from the sack in Gregory's hands a colored condom filled one third of the way with chocolates. The boy took the chocolates, kissed Dino's right hand and went back to sit among the others. And so on it went until all the boys had gotten their fair share of condom-wrapped chocolates. The last boy to go happened to be Ash. 

He hadn't seen Dino for a month. He discovered that a spoon of fear had been added to the mixture of disgust and horror he felt when he thought back to their first meeting. Knowing how dangerous Dino truly was made Ash's stomach twist and his hands felt clammy as he walked up to him. He should have expected it, but the extent of his fear was an entirely new enemy. 

Ash received his portion of chocolates, but the boss, instead of offering his hand to kiss as he had done with everyone else before, put both his hands on Ash's shoulders and made him turn and face the other boys, saying, 

"Today, we welcome a newbie. Apparently he has not wasted his time and has already scratched someone." Dino chuckled. He was referring to an accident which had occurred earlier in the locker room.

"He's a touchy  _ kitten _ , so we'll call him  _ Wildcat  _ and he'll propose the toast for us tonight."

At his words, the boys began chanting loudly, “ _ Wildcat _ !  _ Wildcat _ !  _ Wildcat _ !” while three of the oldest boys distributed glasses of coke to everyone. Ash's glass was handed to him filled with a whitish liquid that hadn't come from a coke bottle. It was a cruel prank. The culprits might have been the same ones who had bullied him in the locker room. 

As they all waited eagerly for his toast, Ash squeezed the red solo cup, its loathsome contents threatening to spill over. Swallowing, he raised his cup and said, "To Papa, who doesn't stint on anything for our sake, even what we haven't asked for!" He gulped down the white liquid in one breath. 

The rest of the boys echoed his words, "To Papa!" and drank. 

The cheeky stunt insult did not escape Dino's attention. He scowled. Then he asked one of his men to bring him something. A moment later, Ash felt intruding hands caressing the skin under his chin from behind. When the gathering broke up, as Ash made to join the others, Dino tugged back on a rudimental necklace which was suddenly hanging around Ash's neck. In that moment, the boy realized that a leather leash had been closed around his throat. He looked at Dino in silence as if the collar had restrained his voice as well. The boy had to follow another path. The boss had decided to spend the night with his naughty cat and pay him back for his cheeky toast. Dino wrapped him in a mink coat and shoved him into his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always glad if I could hear your reactions! Thank you for reading! 😘


	7. The third rule (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am grateful and happy that my betas [INeedFelixFelicis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis) and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune) are still sticking around 😄 . Enjoy!

_ 3.2 The pinched doll  _

* * *

_Richard was awakened early in the morning by a phone call. It was from a certain seafood restaurant. The guy on the line apologized that yesterday's scallops hadn't been fresh enough and asked when and where he wanted them to be delivered again, obviously at no additional cost for him. And Richard had said at O'Malley's, a bar near the hotel where he was staying, at four o'clock that afternoon. He wasn't at all surprised to discover that the scallops had golden blond hair and black eyes. The boy was walking into the bar like a wounded Bambi: clumsy and stumbling on a sprained ankle._

_He limped to his seat and sat down. He was staring into the table's steady surface, his lip was broken, and his hands were clasped tightly on his lap._

_"Why did you leave out of the blue yesterday? If you didn't want to meet Andrea, you should have just said so! Look at you now, you're a mess!"_ _Richard said as Sean looked up at him tentatively and put his hands on the table. "Where did you go? I was worried sick!"_ _Richard exclaimed, reaching out to Sean's still-clasped hands, but Sean pulled his hands back under the table, escaping his grip. "At least tell me why you left!"_ _Richard finally demanded, exasperated by the boy's silence._

 _“I have learned my lesson, sir. It won't happen again. I swear," the boy said in an emotionless tone. It wasn't the answer Richard wanted. it wasn't even an answer, to be honest._

_"You know that's not what I asked you_ — _" Richard started to say but he was suddenly interrupted by the waitress who had come to take their order._

_Richard ordered a cappuccino for himself, then asked the boy what he wanted to eat. But Sean demurely replied that everything on the menu seemed good and he would have whatever the designer ordered for him._

_"Well, if you're having trouble deciding what to order, then I would recommend our cinnamon and banana muffins," their waitress chipped in. "They are the best muffins in New York City."_

_So Richard ended up ordering one for Sean since the boy didn't protest it. Sean reminded him of a hermit crab at that moment, retreating deep into his shell at any sign of danger. The boy was on the defensive - he hadn't even called Richard by his name yet, only addressed him as "Sir"._

_"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I won't be able to help you,"_ _Richard said. He felt powerless seeing how bad Sean looked and not being able to help him._

 _"Call me only if you want to fuck me, please."_

_Sean's words fell like a stone into a pond. Too fast, noticed only because of the splash it makes once you realise that it's too late to catch, and you won't hear it come to rest on the cold bottom. Too cold._

_"What?"_

_"Would you like to listen to a funny story?"_ _Sean asked, pretending that he hadn't just dropped something akin to a bomb on Richard's heart. The question didn't seem to have any relation to whatever Sean had said before but Richard nodded, taken aback a little as Sean's deep tone turned jovial._

_“I once had a little sister who had a favorite toy, more precious than any other we ever had. It was a blonde doll, like many others, but she treated it like it was an invaluable unique piece._

_"One day she left it on the kitchen table and after a while, she remembered it again and went to retrieve it… it was gone. She burst into tears and our mother ran quickly to her side. She told mom that the doll had run away and that she wouldn't be able to sleep due to the sorrow she felt for her loss._

_"The next day, my mother found the doll in the toy basket, then she took a felt-tip pen, scribbled it all over, and gave it back to her daughter, telling her that mom had punished the bad doll and that surely it would no longer disappear on its own volition again._

_"My little sister took the doll and started playing with it as if nothing had happened, forgetting everything else. Isn't this a wonderful story? What length won't a mother's concern go to!"_

_Richard had gone pale._

_"But dolls don't move by themselves,"_ _Richard objected in a low voice, grasping the meaning of the parable._

_"Of course, I had the doll stored because I needed to clear off the table."_

_"And the punishment was all a farce. Your mother should not have gone along with your sister's whim, but explain to her that what your sister claimed was impossible."_

_"To avoid scribbling the doll? Why not? Mom would have bought another identical one if my sister had not wanted it anymore because of the scribbles all over it. It wasn't an irreplaceable item. "_

_"I shouldn't have made that call yesterday. I'm sorry,"_ _Richard said. Sean sighed._

_"Yes, you shouldn't have had, sir."_

_"But you're not a doll to play with, dammit! And what is this "sir"? Call me Richard, alright?"_

_Sean, shaken, nodded._

_"Now tell me what truly happened and why you disappeared."_

_Sean sighed again._

_"I met Donkey's Tooth at the drink counter."_

_"Donkey's Tooth?"_

_“It's just a nickname. He recognized me. He was sure I had crashed the party to steal some free food. He wanted to take me to the bouncer to make sure that I was on the guests' list."_

_"Whoever he was, you should have told him that you were with me. He would have left you alone," Richard remarked._

_“It would only work in the short term. People like him…if you play hard, you only spur them on. If he wants to, he can easily find me and get me back for my rejection. And he would have had a word with you too if you had stood up for me."_

_"You could always tell him that you were with a customer without saying my name if you didn't want to trot me out," Richard replied. The designer had registered the boy's last sentence as proof that Sean cared about Richard's well being, that he cared enough not to let Richard meet that ugly mug. This sweet delusional thought didn't last long._

_“That's the point, Richard. They wouldn't believe me! Customers take me to hotels to fuck or anywhere else that fuels their fantasies. The inaugurations of fashion houses are not somewhere I belong, don't you see? In my world, I know how to defend myself, but in your world.... I eat every day and I earn my bread. You may not like what I do, but I am better off than many other guys on the streets. But there! There, for those of your kind, who take pride in not being fooled by fancy clothes, I can only be a filthy starving beggar!"_

_"I didn't think that—"_

_"If one doesn't know how to play with dolls, one shouldn't even look at them!"_ _Sean interrupted him, unable to keep his voice low any longer. A woman from the adjacent table was eyeing them with her spoon frozen in mid-air over her parfait. Both fell silent when the waitress arrived with the cappuccino and the muffin._

 _"Do you remember the first time we met?"_ _Richard suddenly said once the waitress had left._

_Sean muttered out a "yes"._

_"I told you that Kippard's vices don't bother me, right?"_

_Sean listened, saving himself the trouble of confirming it._

_"It may sound cruel of me, but I still think it is none of my business. I don't think so highly of myself to imagine that I can solve all of the world’s problems, but if I have met you, then it means to me that you, at least, have become my business. I don't want to give up on getting you out of that damned Club. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. I am practically powerless, I know. I am not angry at you. Mind you, I am the adult here and I should have guessed by myself that they would have filmed us. But I realize now that playing a game, ignoring its rules… well, I risk hurting you, however unwillingly."_

_"There's nothing you can do without getting your hands dirty, Richard," Sean pragmatically answered._

_"But there must be something I could do, right? Tell me!"_

_"I suppose you can… buy me. If my mother could sell me I don't see why someone else can't do it as well."_

_At first, Sean didn't think it was hard to say, he could see the logic behind it. But still, it felt wrong in a more subtle way. He was embarrassed and ashamed of feeling like that. Richard fell silent and Sean realised that the designer was seriously considering the option._

_"How much?" Richard finally asked after a while, sipping on his cold cappuccino, his grimace betraying his disgust at the drink’s temperature._

_Sean tentatively said an estimate, rounding it off upward. Actually, he had no idea but he didn't want to sound cheap. Now, Sean thought, he will back off._

_"Let's say I decide to pay it,"_ _a conflicted Richard said. It would take time to collect the sum. "Will you finally tell me your true name then, at least?"_

_Sean couldn't understand why the man was so interested in knowing it. After all, he could have given Sean any name that he liked. I didn't care about my name at all, Sean thought to himself. It was like that muffin he had never asked for and ate anyway. But there was a limit to Sean's tolerance for stupidity, and thinking that his name was worth the money crossed it._

_"My name is Sean. Sean Perez."_

_He told Richard exactly to make a point. Someone should jam some common sense into that airhead, right? But Sean knew as well that something was off if he had felt a great deal more elated of saying the truth than proud of making up a believable sister that he had never had._

***

Dino had sent the boy to wash himself first. Then, when Dino got out of the bathroom into the bedroom again, he never expected to find the boy already asleep under the blankets. Dino had seen him tremble earlier. The boy had lost the stoicism that he had the last time, Dino thought to himself. He had been brittler this time, frail like a bubble about to pop if you touch it even slightly, and Dino took all the credit for it. And now, the boy had sunk into sleep as if he had no worries in the world. What a miracle! He was embracing the pillow like an elfin prince in blissful idleness, expecting everyone to be ready to serve him. 

The boy had kept up with the older boys in the locker room, or so they had told Dino, and in his own way, he was trying to keep up with Dino too. It was a fun game. If given the opportunity to act out, like a loophole, the boy wouldn't let it go. The toast had been an example of that. Dino mused how fun it had been to loosen the leash and see what the boy would come up with each time. 

There was something about the seraphic calm of Ash's sleep that kept Dino from waking him. Dino should have kicked the boy out of the bed and down to the floor, hooking the collar under the bed to the ad-hoc hook. The hook was there to let Dino lie down on the bed without risking nocturnal assaults. But instead, he sat in his armchair to admire the boy's nice little body. Dino saw his lips part, his eyes still clenched and unconscious, and wondered what he was dreaming about. 

Then suddenly Dino heard him moan and saw him kick under the sheets. Indecipherable words fought in vain to escape Ash’s lips, lips tightened once again like a golden treasure trunk latch. Dino jumped up from his seat, approached the bed, and lowered himself to the level of the boy's face with a mixture of curiosity and desire. He saw a tear form and flow in slow motion from the boy’s eyes. He pinched Ash's cheek hard and licked a tear at the same time. 

Waking up, Ash drew back in surprise, hitting his head on the wrought iron headboard of the bed. The imprecise punch that he had automatically thrown landed in Dino's hands. Dino was now holding Ash's hands close to his own chest. He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"Don't even try to escape from me," the boss told him. "Nobody escapes Papa." 

Dino's conclusiveness only made things worse. Ash bit his lip, holding his breath, then whispered:

"Not even Chris?"

"Not even him," Dino replied without betraying his intrigue at the question. "What made you think Chris was an exception, sweetheart?" 

Ash weighed Jack's and Sean's words and thought that there was no better opportunity to tease Dino about the matter, so he answered, 

"Nothing in particular. But despite knowing your power, Chris still tried to escape and Marvin burned him alive for that, didn't he?"

"Pussycat," Dino said, standing up from where he was sitting by the bedside and ruffled the boy's hair. His face did not betray a sliver of his thoughts. "You shouldn't be talking about things you know nothing about. Chris was like a son to me. If what you said is true, he got the end he deserved."

Ash shivered at those merciless words. Then Dino chased him from the bed, tied him to the hook, and ordered him, while wrapping himself in the blankets, "Sleep. Tomorrow we'll go to Atlantic City."

But fear and Dino’s soft snores prevented Ash from falling back asleep. He curled up on a rug with only the mink coat for a blanket.

_ 3.3 The girl roller - skating  _

* * *

Resorts International Casino was owned by A. N. Crosby, founder and director of the Resorts International Group and figurehead on behalf of Dino Golzine. This collaboration with Crosby was an excellent opportunity to launder dirty money. Dino had ventured into this new project with enthusiasm and confidence. When the state of New Jersey decided to legalize gambling, it admitted the opening of this casino, albeit in so limited time slots that there was always a queue of eager gamblers outside.

From behind darkened car windows, Ash saw those chickens waiting to be plucked but felt no pity. His hand was anchored to the child-locked door handle. Even if there was no child-lock, it would have made no difference since the car was moving fast enough to make jumping out risky. 

Dino sat on the opposite side, peaceful and full of pride, his eyes fixed on the road but regularly glancing at the driver.

The car entered the hotel parking lot, its tyre squealing on the road, and came to a halt under the leafless branches of a huge red oak. 

For Ash, any excuse was better than looking at Dino, even pretending to keenly observe a boring landscape. He was looking without really seeing. So, when the door on his side was opened, he didn't immediately realize it until his body was dragged by the handle he was still gripping tightly. Ash inhaled the cold air outside with relief. Another car stopped not so far from theirs and a few more bodyguards popped out of it. 

Gregory firmly gripped Ash's shoulders, lest he try to escape, as Dino and his bodyguards strode towards the hotel entrance. Ash's blue hooded jacket stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of the men's black suit and ties. Therefore, at a nod from Dino, Gregory moved away from the group, drawing the boy along with him so as to make him appear less conspicuous. 

Crosby had reserved one of the best hotel rooms for the boss and the check-in was fast and efficient. They took the keys separately: first Dino and his guards, then Gregory and Ash. And the groups individually proceeded to their adjacent rooms, one room for the bodyguards and another one for Dino. Gregory and Ash joined them through the interior door. 

Ash had been able to wear the pair of jeans and a sweater that someone must have recovered from the locker room the day before. Gregory brought out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket, positioned Ash, and handcuffed him to the bedpost.

"Your services won't be required until this evening," he said. It was barely 10 in the morning at that time.

"Hey, wait a minute! So you plan to just leave me cuffed to the bed the whole day? What if I have to use the toilet?"

While Ash kept spitting out a chain of protests in an increasingly high-pitched tone, Gregory returned from the bathroom with a waste bin.

"You piss in here. You can empty it later tonight," he said, placing the bin next to Ash's side.

"No way, Jose!" Ash yelled at him, kicking the bin which rolled away on the floor. Gregory went to pick it up, calm and imperturbable as a mountain against the wind. It was Dino who replied, 

"Who's throwing a tantrum now?"

Even though Dino's tone was playful, Ash felt a chill roll down his spine.

"I mean, I have been behaving well, haven't I? You won't even notice that I am there. I promise I won't do anything if you free me. I just wanna walk around a little bit," he managed to say, pleading his case with much more diplomacy than earlier. 

"You are one to talk!" commented one of the guards.

"It's up to the old man to decide, not you!" Ash retorted scornfully. If Dino was intimidating, the same could not be said of his guards in Ash's eyes. 

"So I'd be old?" Dino whispered in Ash's ear after kneeling down the bed.

"Well ..."

"Maybe if I received a little kiss..." Dino suggested, tapping his own cheek with his finger. Ash did not think much of this bizarre request, after all he had done worse things by then. He didn't expect Dino to turn around at the last moment so that his kiss landed on the lips though. Ash withdrew immediately at the contact, his reflexes taking over.

"Greenhorn!" the boss commented while the others guys chortled. "Use this time to give some thoughts on what it means being a good kitten," Dino ordered the boy.

Everyone would have assumed that Ash was processing the humiliation, blank eyes above pale cheeks and firm lips, willpower all drained off from his soul. When the guards left, following their boss, Ash was alone and still handcuffed in that hotel room. 

First the words became inaudible, then the sound of footsteps vanished too. Ash's eyes regained their life. He thanked and sent his blessings to Sean and his obsession for being ready for literally anything. He took off a Bobby pin deeply hidden in his hair and smirked at the object, his tiny accomplice. _You don't know how many customers forget to free you after they have called it a day_ , Sean had explained one day starting their morning lessons in front of a parade of ropes and handcuffs. In no time Ash had opened the handcuffs. It wasn't a surprise since he had been practicing a lot. If pleading had ever worked he wouldn't have been there anymore. He had tried it once, twice and they had merely laughed aloud at him. But they had complained too when he had accepted everything without a fight. Thus, he had acted accordingly to make them believe they were crushing his hopes, hopes he no longer held. 

He emptied his bladder into the waste bin, since it would have been odd later if he had left it immaculate. Then he took the handcuffs and closed them around the inside and outside doorknob of the entrance door, to prevent the lock from closing completely due to its upper spring, once he got out. He didn't have the keys of the room, of course, and didn't want to be locked out. 

There was still always the risk that someone would notice the cuffs and warn the staff or, even worse, Papa Dino himself, but at the moment, this was the best Ash could do. He decided that he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He slunk through the corridor, took the elevator down to the second floor, and then went down the stairs on foot. He was anxious since he did not know where Dino was headed and therefore, could not plan ahead to evade him. He counted on his lucky stars to get him out of there safely without running into anyone. He even refrained from going near the slot machines and the arcade games hall. 

He was ready to bet his head that security cameras were stationed nearby and he did not want his passage to be kindly immortalized by them. He found himself wandering restlessly, his heart racing faster at any eye contact. He just wanted a taste of freedom. He reached (by chance) the hotel recreation area. There was a bar, a gym, an indoor swimming pool and a skating rink side by side. _Wow_ , there was even a stall with a lot of roller skates for renting. Too bad he didn't have a cent to spend. So Ash sat on the short wall at the edge of the rink, swigging his feet. 

Jack had assured him that the Sergeant Major would soon find out all available information about Griffin's whereabouts. Ash's plan to look for Griffin was quite different before meeting Marvin. When Ash left Cape Cod in stark contrast to his father's will, he had the address of a New Yorker comrade of Griffin stuck in his jeans pocket. He had taken it from his brother's photo album. If Ash could have chosen, he would have made contact with Max Glenreed, the man Griffin had mentioned as his best buddy in his letters. Unfortunately Max lived too far for Ash to reach. 

Meeting with poor wheelchair-bound John Neil was rough. Ash learned that Griffin had been shot in the legs by his best friend. John was hospitalized in the same ward as Griffin in Saigon before being sent home. Strangely this also meant that Ash's brother was still alive and traceable the day the letter stating that Griffin was MIA had been delivered. Ash left John's house with more questions than answers and no desire to meet Max Glenreed after what he learned. That man might be behind Griffin's incapacity to come back home. 

Afterwards, while sitting on the steps ahead of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine wondering where he should go next, Ash's path crossed with Sophia's. The old woman spotted Ash with his hands on his cheeks and elbows on his knees as she was going down the steps carrying a bag of food she got from a food bank. She asked if there was something wrong with him. If he hadn't answered, things would have been different now. 

Ash realised that he didn't want to visit that painful memory again. Since he kept feeling so helpless in the wait for or in fear of Jack's report, he came to the conclusion that he needed a distraction. He just needed to stretch his legs a bit, he told himself, hoping he didn't have to pay too much for that. With a shake of his head, he chased away the dark thoughts and focused on his surroundings.

There was a group of friends who were spurring on a scared kid to spring toward the middle of the skating rink. They were showing off their skills self-assuredly, demonstrating how smoothly he would slide on the shining surface if only he believed in himself. In spite of their best efforts, everybody could tell, from the kid's firm grip on the wall running along the rink perimeter, that he didn't think it was as easy as they all insisted it was. 

There was a woman laughing at the almost-tumble of her partner, who looked displeased by that. And then there was also her, a brunette with wavy hair in a mustard coat and a tartan skirt who was skating straight towards Ash. 

"Sorry, can you take a picture for me, please?" she asked as soon as she was within his hearing range, handing him a Polaroid camera. Her tapering fingers with short nails were forming a nest for the camera to shine in all its glory. 

"Are you talking to me?" Ash asked incredulously.

"Do you see anyone else nearby?" the girl replied, bringing her camera closer to him, her arm now fully extended towards Ash.

"Okay," he agreed.

"Vertically," she recommended. "Please, include both the skates and the background, okay?"

"I got it," Ash grumbled. He clicked the button, pulled out the photo, and waved it before handing it to her.

"Like this?" Ash asked. She frowned, pouting, and nodded after smacking her lips. But Ash missed her expression since he was too busy noticing a mole just beside the right side of her lips.

"What are you doing here alone? Can't you skate?" she asked, still staring at the photo, the mole dancing on her cheek while her lips moved. "Thank you." 

Ash missed those words of thanks, distracted by the mole. She took back her camera and hung the strap on her neck.

"I could ask you the same. Aren't you here alone as well?" Ash asked, dodging her question.

"My father is playing at the casino and my brother wanted to go with him, even though he's not old enough to enter. I hope nobody notices his age. So they said I could roam on my own." She explained. "I'm Liz, and you are...?"

"Aslan." It was his only real name that nobody here knew and therefore, it felt safe to say in that moment. "Sorry, but what's the point of taking pictures of yourself standing alone?" Ash asked. 

Maybe it was the novelty of being on the other side of the camera lens after so long that made him hang on to the topic. Maybe it was just to keep the conversation going, reluctant to let go. He didn't want to be left alone again with his thoughts. 

"Was it such a weird request? This is a reference photo. I wanna paint this when I get back home."

"Oh!" 

To be honest, it could not reach Ash's top ten of the weirdest requests. Not now, not ever.

"Do you want to try?" she asked.

"Painting?"

"No, skating, you idiot!" She said, giggling.

"I don't have skates."

"Mine should fit you fine. They aren't the rented ones, mind you." They were bright blue roller-skates with yellow stars painted on both sides. The wheels were yellow too and so was the rubber stopper at the front.

"Can I? Really?" Ash asked, disbelievingly.

She did not reply, instead she was already undoing her laces. She ran to the wall after taking them off, to retrieve a pair of shoes and a book she had left on the edge of the rink. Ash watched her walk lightly on her stockinged feet. 

While putting them on, Ash thought that the stopper was useless because you could only really use it to help you stop if you were going pretty slowly. If you bent your knees and leant forward enough for it to touch the pavement when going at a speed, you would end up doing an extremely painful somersault. Unrelated to that, he also thought that if the blades were in line, like when skating on ice, the skates would lose in stability but gain in speed. 

"Not like that!" she exclaimed when she had returned, her remark intermingled with laughter. "You swapped the right for the left!" she justified her amusement, covering her mouth and the mole with her hand. She had a loud laugh and her soft-looking voluminous hair shook with her laughs. A smile broke across Ash's face.

"I wanted to see if you'd notice." 

Was it true? Was it not? Liz thought that he was like a cat, he always landed on his feet, no matter the height he was pushed. He swapped the skates, fastened them, and began to whirl around her with gusto. 

"Am I doing it correctly?" he asked, pulling the book out of her hands. 

"Hey! Give it back!" Liz said trying to grab it back but missing it by a whisker. 

" _The Lady of the Camellias_ ," Ash read on the cover, dodging her attempts to retrieve the book. "A botanical book? I notice it's from the library."

"It's a love story, you oaf," she scolded him after another failed attempt to get her hands on her book. 

Ash returned the book to her with a sly smile before she could get angry for real.

"You are a funny girl. If you get a little overworked, you become red in the face," Ash pointed out to her. "Plus, you change the subject so abruptly. As if people can read your mind. It's unfair, you know?" 

"Well, you speak like my grandpa, the same inflection! Old geezer! Old geezer!" she said in a singsong voice, holding the book close to her chest. It was Ash's turn to pout. 

Even the man who was watching them from afar with theater binoculars did not miss the fact that Ash was having a lot of fun. 

"Do you want me to call him back, Papa?" Gregory asked. 

"There's no need," Dino answered without taking his eyes off his binoculars. "Until and unless he tries to leave the building, just keep an eye on him and report everything to me." Dino said. Then suddenly, "What do you think about him?" asked the boss.

"He is agile, wily and combative. He takes every opportunity to call you 'old man'. He reminds me of Alain in that regard."

Dino looked at him grimly and Gregory realized he had mentioned one name too many. 

"He's not careful enough to sense that we are spying on him, but smart enough to avoid the cameras. There is room for improvement. I don't get why he hasn't tried to escape, though. It makes no sense to me. Why did he bother to free himself then?" the man ended his report with this unanswered question. 

"He simply has nowhere to go," Dino said. "He is cunning. He will not flee on an impulse, even if he wishes to. Maybe he's waiting for something, or someone. Who knows? Time will tell. Have this kitten included in the next show at Club Cod. He's more than ready. We just need to work a bit more on his drive." Dino said. Then suddenly changing the subject, "Gregory, stop Chris' search and call Marvin back from Cuba."

"Are you sure you want to stop the search for good, Papa? He may still be alive and well."

"He's dead. There's the same hand as the other time behind it."

"What should we do about that?" Gregory asked in a lowered voice, remembering what a fierce foe they were facing. 

“We will annoy them, what else?” answered the boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Update: last check done!  
>   
> Someone would notice that starting from here, I have made and will keep making significant additions to the original work "Ca' Pesci Rossi", since I wasn't satisfied with its pacing and I had had this second chance to insert deleted scenes and fix what makes me cringe. I would say this will be more a rewriting than a translation from now on.  
>   
> I also want to thank whoever has left any sort of feedback in those past months.


	8. The fourth rule (1/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [INeedFelixFelicis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedFelixFelicis/pseuds/INeedFelixFelicis) and [ winterune ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune)for the beta work. It was the longest chapter so far, now you know why I had to skip a month. A year from now I was posting the very first part of this story, I think that this update is also my way to celebrate the anniversary.

_ 4.0 Prepare for the worst _

* * *

The chatter subdued when Jack had come in, at the head of the pack as the leader, with Ash and Sean tagging along. On both sides of them, the other boys had their backs turned to the trio. Someone was sobbing somewhere in the crowd, but the source of the sound was indiscernible among the whispers. Maybe, the boys felt like Moses walking through the parted sea. If Moses was being circled by sharks just beyond the curtain of seawater, that is. Ash noticed the furtive glances he received while walking to the blue locker at the far end of the room. Only a red-haired boy was brave enough to openly stare at them. Ash's gaze was pulled into the intensity of his owlish eyes. He bumped into Jack's back, who turned around and snarled at Ash to watch his steps.

They put all their clothes inside the locker, and Jack put the bracelet with the key on his wrist.

A brown-skinned guy called out for Jack, and Sean immediately put his hand on Ash's shoulder. By then, Ash knew Sean well enough to be sure that he wasn't the type to touch him without a reason. But was he able to say if it was to stop him from following Jack as the boy left or if it was because Sean was feeling dizzy? Sean looked a little peaked actually. 

The boys' gazes had turned bolder. It looked like the waves were about to crash and flow over their heads. And some of the sharks didn’t exactly look friendly. Everyone had seen _Jaws_ ; everyone knew how dangerous sharks could be. Even so, Sean was a special case in that regard, since he was a bit more into animals than the average American teen. 

A boy was heading toward them. He had a long face with a narrow nose, large eyes sheltered under neat eyebrows, and more teeth than mouth. Sean immediately recalled some facts about sharks. They change 3000 teeth in their lifespan, can't float without swimming and, because of that, don't know what a deep nap feels like. Except for the amount of teeth, Sean thought that the same could be said of Simon as well. As far as Sean could remember, Simon's sight was excellent though. The popular belief about his cousins' blindness could be a misconception too.

"I thought you're out of business, Chick. Still playing the hen?"

"Still sleep deprived to make a living, bro?" Sean retorted snarkily. 

" _Unlike you_ , I believe that practice's the best teacher. Poor Paul, he panicked at the wrong moment." Sharks have a fine sense of smell for bleeding wounds. "Didn't you know? They must have spared you the details. I was there."

"Ah, so you were there. Well, how came you were no help at all then?" Sean accused Simon. He winced and quickly managed to smooth over his expression. The first to fall silent would have been the one who lost, admitting guilt.

"Don't confuse your job with mine, Chick. Sadly I was working too. Preparing him properly was _your_ responsibility. But since we're all waiting in this smelly room, to prevent such an accident from happening again, I'm generous enough to give the newbie some extra sessions, if you agree. Just my way to kill the time."

"Nobody asked for your precious time. He's _my_ responsibility."

"Soooo mean! Is that the nice way to respond to my kind offer, Chick?" Simon taunted him. 

A couple of other boys joined Simon's side, asking, "Is _this_ the kid he had been talking about?" Sean had no idea _who_ they were talking about. 

"Do you call it a nice answer, Sean?" echoed Ash with a baby voice. Sean was startled. 

"Oh, the kid's a voice. Very well. Even a newcomer notices the flaws in your teachings, see?" Simon remarked, looking delighted. 

Sean looked at Ash, undeceived by his tone. Ash's eyes were telling a different story. But Sean felt no desire to warn Simon when Ash stepped towards the grinning boy. A kick, straight to the most sensitive point between the legs, hit Simon at a moment's notice. He lost his balance and fell to his knees.

"This is the proper answer, jerk," Ash hissed. Then, speaking up to Sean, "What do you mean by 'my responsibility'? Did it seem like I needed your help? I don't need your empty words!"

Sean was about to argue but then thought better of it. The other two boys helped Simon to his feet, glaring angrily at Ash and threatening him with their clenched fists.

Jack and the dark-skinned guy from before came back with two straw baskets full of red Santa Claus hats and underpants to wear. The tension dissipated instantly. The three boys who had approached Sean and Ash buried their hostility under an impassive façade and retreated. There was no telling what they would have done if the situation had been different. Sean thought that Ash still needed to learn to be patient, even if he was secretly pleased by how graceful the kick had been. Somewhere, someone, distracted from his misery, had stopped sobbing. 

***

Ash had his own uncomfortable recollection of that scene. Still, it was strange for him to feel relieved to come back to the Goldfish house. It wasn’t as if the apartment had any special space in his heart. If nothing else, it was like a storm shelter, a temporary feeling of safety. Even so, it had become the sole safe spot Ash had. It was quite the opposite of what the locker room had revealed itself to be three nights before. 

That wasn't even Ash's worst memory since he left the house on Christmas Eve. Dino had worked hard to stay on top of Ash's personal list. In fact, Dino had even planned to starve Ash until he bent to his unexpressed wishes. He constantly pushed Ash's boundaries to make his sense of shame smaller and smaller. Like when he had tested Ash's limits by making him sit handcuffed on his lap in front of a lavish dinner and letting him eat only by stealing the food from the Boss's mouth. With mouthfuls tiny as ants, the dinner had been another torturous ordeal; yet another steady step into the abyss. 

All Ash's memories of Dino were ugly. They were stealing the scene to any other ugly memory in his mind, including everything else that had happened in the gym. The rage was overwhelming and never welcome. It was this rage which woke Ash up early this morning. Dino's face was sharply clear amidst his tangled thoughts. He grabbed the teddy bear from under his bed and pierced holes in it with a pin, angrily gnashing his teeth. 

The violent blows made Ash's rickety bed frame creak violently and that woke Sean up on the next bed. A quick glance let Sean know that what Ash was absorbed in wasn't his business. He rolled to the other side of his bed, bounced out of it, and left the room unnoticed. _Time for a cup of tea_ , he thought. Watching Ash violently attack that cuddly toy felt unintentionally voyeuristic and he wanted Ash to have some semblance of privacy here at the apartment, at least. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Ash was harboring some resentment towards Dino. Especially since, after his return, the first thing he had done was complain that a folder about Dino was missing from the ring binder. 

_"Of course,"_ Jack had replied with a hint of snarkiness. _"No one's allowed to comb through the life of the boss of the whole operation."_

On dull mornings like this, the pulsing flame of the burner was hypnotic and the sound made by the gas dispenser was like a lullaby to Sean's ears. _Flames_ . He wondered whether the flames of hell felt warm at first before they started torturing the soul. _It must be so_. Being around Ash felt like that sometimes. A bewitching danger. Sean had to keep his distance from Ash for his own good, because he was going to leave Ash behind soon. He needed to stay strong until then.

When it came to keeping him up, Sean preferred the tender hug of theine over its darker sister, caffeine. It had always been like that since he quit drinking milk. Chris insisted that coffee was way better. Sean missed squabbling with Chris. Chris would have had some good advice for him, for sure. He would have agreed that Sean didn't need to get bewitched by his new roommate. Chris would have known how to fight the urge to do stupid things for Ash's sake.

Sean wondered when he had started having brotherly feelings for Ash. Even seeing his little brother in Ash shouldn't have made any difference. After all, his brother's birth had been the beginning of Sean’s misfortune. He couldn't care for his little brother any less. In fact, it would have been much easier if Ash _had_ resembled his little brother. 

Anyway, Sean couldn't afford to share Ash's rage. He had no reason to share it in the first place. Ash could blame Dino as much as he wanted, Sean could only blame himself, and his mother at best. He gave up on her as he had given up on the milk. While the flame kept burning, Sean couldn't help but remind himself _why_ he ended up like that. 

***

_Chicago, for Sean, was decks, blues songs on the piano, and blisteringly hot summers. Those elements were all wrapped and mixed in the memory of that one-hour drive together, that Sean, his brother, and their mother took one day on their mother's whim for enjoyment._

_On that cruel day on the highway, the wind was stroking Sean's elbow, which was poking out of the car window. His brother had fallen asleep on the backseat. Jazz music blared out of the radio between, and in spite of, the stubborn wave interferences. His mother forbade him from waking his brother up after parking their car near a playground. She told him to go join the other children. Despite her promise to join him as soon as his brother woke up, his mother and brother never stepped out of the car. The car left just a few minutes afterwards._

_Later, a stranger told Sean that he had seen her gray car leave. And what had Sean done at that point? He had walked home. What did he think then, that it was a challenge? That his mother was testing him to see how good her child's navigation skills were? How independent he was? He had arrived as exhausted as a nine-year-old boy could have been after such a long trek._

_When he saw his mother's face again at home, he smiled at her with pride. He hated hearing her complain that she had nobody to rely on. Sean wanted to be considered reliable by her. Hadn't he proved his point in that moment? He had come back, unlike those ghostly men who visited her, who feared the morning sunlight like vampires and left in the dark of the night._

_She looked surprised, troubled, frightened even; nothing like what Sean had expected. Sean knew that something was wrong._

_He realised something about his mother that he didn't want to spell out. The more he chewed on it, the warier he became._

_His realisation that to his mother, 'two' meant 'too many' was solidified when he caught her putting rat poison into his milk. He didn't think that his previous conclusion had been correct. He had been desperately clinging onto the hope that he had been stupid and wrong in his thinking. That maybe it had all been a trick of his overactive imagination. But seeing her actively trying to kill him hit him like a sucker-punch, knocking his breath out and swiping out his feet underneath him._

That bowl was the reason why he was here now. That bowl was the reason why anything resembling milk still made him sick. That was enough recollecting. He could stop at that memory. But Sean's mind wouldn't obey his wishes now, not when he had already successfully gone through those earlier memories. 

_He remembered a scarlet tie, no head attached to the neck it was tied around. It was a man too insignificant to remember. The man had been talking to his mother in the kitchen. Sean had been about to leave them alone and come back home later after the stranger had left, but his mother called out for him. The man wasn't one of her johns, apparently._

_Scarlet Tie had shown interest in Sean. He offered Sean’s mother money to let him take the boy to New York. While his mother was hesitant, a dark joy poured into Sean and filled his heart. There was someone willing to_ pay _to have_ him _. Someone ready to give him a chance to make it on his own in the world, even if he was so young. He encouraged her to agree, believing that any fate would have been better than being poisoned by his own mother._

_Sean wanted to leave with the stranger immediately, but he had to wait until the day after. The last night home was the worst. Nobody talked at dinner. The TV had been turned off for no apparent reason. He had no suitcase to fill because they had said he wouldn't have needed it; the stranger had promised food, clothing and lodging if Sean came with him. So he had nothing to do._

_He could hardly sleep throughout the night, kept up by his nerves. In the morning, he left early while his brother was still asleep. His mother kept giving him trivial recommendations, half of which his ear failed to grasp. They both were avoiding the important questions. Sean stopped on the threshold and turned around. His first and only words that morning had been:_

_"You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."_

_He felt like someone else was saying this in his place. A smirking projection of himself towering above his shoulders who was making fun of him for believing his words. How many men had she seen off? How many pathetic farewells had Sean overheard until that day? He stole her line in hope to leave her speechless. Sean didn't want to be treated like one of them by her._

_"Sure," she replied in her softest note. Sean wished he hadn't heard her._

***

He had gone to great lengths to prove his worth in the only path that fate had opened for him. He had devotedly learned all the tricks he could ever learn. But in spite of his pedigree, he had never been gifted with that natural ease he would have needed to meet success in that environment. His feeling of discomfort kept interfering with his job. People assumed by his background that he would have been uninhibited around sex. That, above all, harmed his reputation in the end.

The sound of the buzzer distracted everyone from whatever they were doing. Ash threw the stuffed toy on the ground with the pins lodged in its abdomen. Sean left washing the tea cup half done. Jack emerged from his room warbling.

"Have they brought the Persian waxing this time?" Jack asked with anticipation.

All three went to the entrance. Jack answered the buzzer, then turned the key in the lock. While Jack and Ash reached the elevator, Sean stayed behind to signal when they could press the elevator button, as soon as he heard the second buzz. Sean joined them immediately after. 

It was not the time to worry about whether something they had been longing for was indeed in the shopping bags. Uninvited and furious, from the elevator came out Marvin. He pointed Ash and barked, "Prepare for the worst!"

Ash sprang toward the apartment, running off like a scalded cat. Marvin launched himself in pursuit resembling a wild-eyed greyhound. Sean was thrown sideways, his shoulders slamming against the wall. Jack quickly stood aside, just enough to feel the sudden blast of air from Marvin's rush. 

Ash was struggling to close the security door with himself inside the apartment, his desperation clearly written on his face. He looked helpless like someone who had stepped into a sinkhole and knew there was no help around. Perhaps it was no exaggeration to say that Ash's chances of death were just as high as those of someone caught in a sinkhole, and those chances were quite high.

"Filthy bastard! Coward! I'll teach you who you should've impressed!" Marvin yelled. 

Ash could not keep him out, once the door was forced open. The boy started throwing everything he could get his hands on—the phone, the planner, the shoes. He moved even the armchair to put it in the way, but the man's fury was unstoppable. 

At the same time, Jack and Sean had warily retreated to the living room. They were walking carefully as if they were stalking an easily frightened deer. They followed the trail of objects that had been scattered on the floor, unaware of holding onto each other out of apprehension. Marvin had closed the door behind him, but the boys could hear both his voice insulting Ash and the snaps of his belt coming from Sean and Ash's room. Sean and Jack stopped before its door. 

"Make tea for me too, Sean," Jack ordered.

"Have you gone nuts? He entered the house! Shouldn't we do anything?" Sean was appalled and scared.

"I dunno what the hell that moron did to make Marvin so mad, but ..."

"He could kill him!"

“Naaah, odds are high for Marvin to kill _you_ , if you put yourself between them. He likes Ash too much to end the brat's life."

"Sometimes you scare me, Jack."

"The _truth_ 's scary. You asked for it, you got it, don't blame me. I've never been its lover."

Sean didn't reply to Jack's comment. In the silence between them, every noise coming from that room was amplified and was filling the air with tension. When, after a time that felt much longer than it had been, Marvin came out carrying the boy on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Jack addressed him. 

"Marvin, where're you taking him?"

"It's none of your business, Tit," the man replied flatly. Ash appeared to be unconscious. Marvin left the apartment with his dead weight.

As soon as he heard the click of the lock, Jack rushed to the coat rack.

"Where're you going, Jack?" Sean asked when he saw Jack putting his coat on.

"Where're _we_ going, you mean," Jack corrected him. 

Sean took his coat too, following the implicit order, relieved that his housemate had changed his mind. 

"I thought you were of the opinion that we should've kept our noses out," Sean said.

If Jack's change of heart had happened earlier, they wouldn't have had to chase after Marvin like that. Sean kept this frustration to himself though.

"We've to tell _Monsieur_ what just happened," Jack said. 

Sean stopped his motion, one arm in the sleeve of his jacket and one out of it, as if processing the news was requiring all his body strength. 

"Do you wanna go to the villa _now_?"

"Sure! How much do you bet on the news reaching _Monsieur's_ ears? What'll _he_ think if we don't report the trespass? That's why you have to come along as well, to testify as a witness!"

Sean figured out what Jack had meant and quickened his pace following him outside. What was clouding his judgement to the point that Jack had to lecture him? He definitely had no clue what had become of his past self. 

_ 4.1 Breathtakingly beautiful _

* * *

Ash regained consciousness in Marvin's car just before they went through the gates. Alongside the more predictable pains, he realized that even breathing had become troublesome. A dull pain tormented his side each time he took a deep breath. A moan escaped his lips when he still hadn't decided whether he wanted Marvin to notice that he had regained consciousness or not. Ash wished Marvin hadn't. He discreetly pressed down on his wound, wincing, passing it as an involuntary muscle spasm. Holding the steering wheel, Marvin glanced at him. 

"Now let's go to Papa to tell him that you made it all up, right?" Marvin said, talking to himself mostly. He threw another glance at the boy but Ash didn't react. Then the car stopped and Marvin continued. "Do I have to carry you, princess?" 

Ash opened his eyes wide. On second thought, if ignoring his questions meant having Marvin touch him for any time longer than what was absolutely necessary (which, to Ash, was never), there wasn't any point in keeping up the pretence.

"I can walk, just don't rush me," he said quietly. 

"Wonderful!" 

They went through the English lawn as they had on that night not too long ago. Marvin stopped in front of the dreadful fountain with the agonised pythons that have water streaming out of the pythons' tails and the cherubs' genitals. He had realized that the boy looked battered and mangy. He made Ash sit on the fountain board and skimmed the water in the fountain, wetting his fingers. Marvin ran his wet fingertips through Ash's hair, trying to style it to some semblance of order and neatness.

Ash doubted that Marvin's efforts would have convinced anyone though. Hiding his sorry state wouldn't be accomplished by just simply taming his hair.

"Wash your face, dolt!" Marvin growled.

Ash accomplished as much as he could, even if stretching his upper body to reach the water was painful in itself. As if this was the moment he needed to be reminded that he still had a child's body! Ash peeked through the corner of his eye at Marvin to see if he was irritated by his laboured movements. But, instead, he saw that Marvin's gaze was trained on the cherub's hand that was missing a finger. 

***

_A shadow had crept out of the big python's mouth when a bullet, fired to hit the newcomer, blew up the cherub's pinky finger instead. There was a gasp followed by a shout._

_"Shit!"_

_The shadow slipped behind the snake's sinuous massive body as Marvin's torch illuminated the newly mutilated statue. A pair of boots landed into the water with a splash._

_"Come out!" Marvin ordered._

_"You can bet your ass Papa won't be happy to hear you damaged the statue!" said a smug voice hiding in the shadows._

_"Come out! I'm not gonna ask you again!"_

_"Since when is your patrol station here, Marvin? Put the gun away. Haven't you ever been told to think before shooting? It's Chris, haven't you recognized my voice?" replied the boy with a hint of irritation in his tone._

_"Sorry, Goldfinch, but how was I supposed to know? Come out, see? I've put my gun away," Marvin said after putting the gun back inside his jacket lining pocket. His words sounded friendly like a white flag stained in blood._

_"Don't call me that!" the boy snapped, exposing himself to the flashlight. He was wearing a look of disgust on his face. "You haven't answered my question. Why're you patrolling here?" Chris said, keeping his distance from the man._

_"Asked the boy who was sneaking in like a burglar," Marvin mockingly replied._

_"Do you really think I'd come unarmed if I'd any ill-intentioned plans, you idiot?" Chris responded sharply, sounding irritated with Marvin's stupidity._

_"Good boy! You've always been good at following instructions!" Marvin said with a grin._

_Three other men had rushed after Marvin, hearing his gunshot, and they had encircled the boy. Chris realised now that maybe staying away from Marvin was not the most effective course of action._

_"We were wondering if you had a minute for us, boss. Let's find a quiet place to drink and talk business," Marvin said._

_"You must've missed me a lot the last couple of months if you arranged this welcome party for me. I would be an absolute asshole to say no to a free beer, wouldn't I?" Chris said, as calm and collected as a monk, greeting the other three with a simple nod._

_Chris could no longer doubt that Marvin knew he was coming there as well as the man knew that Chris would have been unarmed. The man had waited for him and had aimed to kill or, in case the first shot failed, give the signal to his accomplices to come to the open. Nobody probably wanted to make a mess within the villa grounds in fear of drawing attention to themselves._

_Chris greeted each man by their names and asked how their families were doing. He didn't seem to mind when they put their arms around his shoulders and directed him to the car. On the contrary, he made some jokes, chatting amiably to the point that they might have forgotten to tie him up. In fact, there was no point in the men being rough since Chris was being so cooperative._

_Above all, while the lights switched on in rapid succession on the first floor of the villa, those four men felt safe because nobody else, apart from them, was aware that Chris would be there, except..._

"Why did you say it was Chris? You've never met him!" Marvin asked Ash all of a sudden.

"Intuition," replied Ash with feigned ease. "You know, blond hair, young, et cetera." He had no intention of laying out things to Marvin. It wouldn't do any good, he guessed.

"You were mistaken, do you understand?" Then, since Ash didn't reply, he added, "Got it?" while yanking Ash's arm. 

"Yes," Ash answered, gritting his teeth. 

Only Dino could have told Marvin that Ash had recognized Chris. The boss hadn’t wasted any time doing that, so much that now Marvin was blaming Ash for the cancellation of his overdue vacation. From Marvin's reaction, it was clear that he wanted to hide the burglar's identity from Dino to the point that now he was trying to force Ash to retract his words. Ash, however, instead of feeling sorry for him, imagined Dino interrogating Marvin and suddenly Marvin's blows felt much more like caresses to him. 

They moved past the fountain, Ash walking slowly so as not to aggravate the pain in his side. They reached the entrance to the villa and stepped inside. A different corridor inside the villa led them to a different room with different armchairs, different windows, a different sofa, but the same uneasiness as the last time they had been in front of its owner.

Dino was waiting for them. He welcomed them and offered Marvin some Hennessy cognac. Marvin accepted the glass from the boss's hand. 

Marvin began a long defensive harangue, explaining that the boy had resented him because the last time they met, Marvin had not tipped him. For this reason, the boy had blathered those accusations against him based only on a hunch or, better, a gut feeling. 

Dino listened, sipping from his glass, his face serene like a clear sky. Outside, however, the weather was worsening and leaden clouds had deprived the windows of the warm kiss of the sun. Then, as Marvin had finished his speech, Dino asked Ash, "What do you have to say, boy?"

Marvin looked hurt that the boss had turned to the boy without a single comment on the speech he had just made.

"I trust my guts, but I trust my ribs even more, and they weren't broken this morning if you know what I mean," Ash replied sarcastically. 

That night he hadn't planned to discuss Chris' death with Dino; Chris' name had just slipped out of his mouth because of his pent-up emotions. But Dino had been, at the very least, unfair, to reveal Ash’s words to Marvin, unconcerned about the consequences Ash would have to face. Ash's heart burned with renewed hatred for the mafia boss. Dino had deliberately put him in danger and now wanted to use his testimony to frame Marvin? No way! Also, bringing in Sean because of the photo he had seen didn't sit well with him. 

Ash continued. “He overplays his merits, all he's tossed me is a bit of chump change, but no real dough. Aaah—!" 

Dino had squeezed Ash's hip without warning and earned the most sincere reaction. He gently lifted the edge of Ash's shirt to reveal a fresh bruise underneath, and the boy flinched at the sudden delicate touch. 

"I'd rather have you see the doctor," Dino muttered, frowning at the mottled, inflamed skin. Ash rolled his eyes. 

"See?" Marvin was saying to regain Dino's attention "He admitted that he was angry at me." He succeeded in his attempt. Dino's hand, which was holding up Ash's shirt, fell away and his attention was snapped away from the boy.

And so, Ash wondered what had brought Marvin to double-cross Dino and what Chris had been doing at the villa that night. Could there be someone else behind Marvin's actions? These questions were eating at him, but it was not the right time to mull over them.

"Oh yes, he hates you, there's no doubt about _that,_ " Dino said, showing a mysterious smile to his simple-minded underling. Just then Gregory entered the room and whispered something in Dino's ear, who replied, "Send them in."

Jack and Sean came into the room. It was clear on both of their faces that they had not been expecting to find Marvin and Ash there. Due to their interruption, both Ash and Marvin lost their chance to hear Dino's opinion on their dissenting views.

"Gregory said you had something urgent to report. Well?" asked the boss. Dino's gaze settled on Jack, inviting him to speak. But Sean was quicker to answer:

"Marvin went up to the apartment."

Sean's tongue was in no need of a warm-up. He was evidently still so offended by Marvin's intrusion that he would feel no awe of speaking in front of the devil itself. 

"He did," Jack confirmed.

 _And he just wanted a heart-to-heart with our housemate_ , Ash sardonically thought, disgusted by what they had left out of the story. 

"How good my boys are!" Dino commented enthusiastically, giving them both an affectionate puff on the cheeks. "Are they not the true image of devotion?" Turning his head to Marvin, he continued. “Marvin, I can't allow you to scare my kids like that. If it happens again—" 

Marvin softly interrupted him, "It won't happen again, Papa."

Dino seemed satisfied with his promise and turned an apologetic look at Sean and Jack. He put down the glass he was still holding and looked at everyone present.

"Since you're all here, I might as well announce some news to you," said Dino, his voice shifting again to a more matter-of-fact tone, as if the previous case was settled once and for all. 

He motioned to Gregory, who went out and came in again, bringing a boy with him. He was as tall as Ash. His clothes were plain and simple but his face was vivid like an assorted palette. The boy's eyes were like two aquamarines, his hair like uncombed hemp tow, with freckles dusting his pale cheeks.

Dino dragged him to the middle and said, "His name's Jeffrey. He'll come with you to the Goldfish house. Do you remember the deal, Chick?"

"Yes, sir."

"But there aren't enough beds!" Jack protested, drowning out Ash's voice which was asking: 

"What deal?"

 _He'll end up on the couch_ , Sean thought. 

"The beds are enough, Tit. The Wildcat will stay here, we've to make him stop making baseless claims. I'll personally take on his re-education," Dino said and pushed Jeffrey into Sean's arms who hugged him before he could trip and fall.

Then Dino sat in one of the numerous armchairs spread over the room and beckoned Ash to sit on his lap. Once Ash had gingerly sat down, Dino nosed at the boy's neck, always glancing at his small audience, as if he was challenging them to take the boy away from him, studying their expressions. Marvin, Jack, Sean, and Jeffrey were awkwardly waiting in a surreal silence, unable to foresee what was coming next. Finally, Dino dismissed everyone except Ash, providing no further explanation. The door slammed shut, or so it sounded to Ash.

"Training the new recruits is one of the conditions for Chick's freedom. Why do you think he's taken such good care of you?" The boss explained to Ash when they had been left all alone. 

Ash had to admit that Dino had a special talent for giving the coup de grace and indeed, you could expect nothing less from him. The feeling of betrayal spread in the pit of Ash's stomach at those biting words, like the drops of a sadness that he had yet to experience in his life. 

"If that was a condition for Sean's freedom, what're the conditions for mine?" he asked, clinging to logic to fight the tears, in a voice so unnatural and cold that it sounded like that of a long-forgotten deity.

"Let's see," answered Dino, pleased, "you've been eating for more than a month, taking advantage of my hospitality. Not to mention the sum I paid to Marvin and the doctor's fee coming soon for these injuries. Do you know how much you already owe me?" 

Dino brushed an ashen lock from Ash's forehead smiling at his unblinking eyes. Ash didn't expect to be presented with a bill in this fashion. 

"I've never asked a thing of you!" he spat irritably in response. It was a mistake. Dino lowered his hand, trembling with rage, from Ash's forehead, trailing a line from the nose tip to the chin tip. He settled his hand lower around Ash's neck, tightened it and suddenly any defence became useless. Dino, however, loosened his hold in a few seconds, without actually letting go.

"Do you know how many seconds a child of your age can survive without breathing?" he asked. 

Ash's eyes widened with terror. His hands had scratched the back of Dino's hand in defence. Not only had he not been able to budge it, but he couldn't even get the satisfaction of causing a grimace of pain on Dino's face. The boss choked him again for a slightly longer time. Ash coughed this time when the air returned to pass through his windpipe. This exacerbated the pain at his side again. 

"I will find out soon, I guess." 

Ash's spine-chilling answer came out as a whisper. His eyes shone like two iridescent gems in the dim light, challenging Dino to go on. 

Ash stretched his hands along his sides to stress his determination. He wasn't going to obey that man any longer. If Dino kept him in check by threatening him with death, there was no limit to what he could have asked of him. 

Ash was fed up, utterly fed up. He would rather be done that day: death would have freed him from this cage, Dino would have lost his money, and Sean would have taken the heat of having driven him to death. It might have tasted like the perfect ending, although with a cloying caramel flavor to it. 

Dino wrapped both his hands this time around Ash's throat like an experienced salesman dealing with a gift wrap ribbon. The boy jumped up only a little, his eyes shut in denial. Then, as he coughed, free again to breathe in tune with the familiar pang in the ribs, the boss asked, "Do I have to send your corpse to Callenreese? Any family?"

Ash's coughing grew louder in response. He tried to disguise one displeasing realization that he had at that moment. And to think he believed, that same day, that his life couldn't possibly get worse. How silly! 

Once upon a time, a king asked a sage, showing off his treasures, "Have you ever met a happy man?"

As a reply, the sage brought up only examples of dead men and, when the king, disappointed, asked why, he said, "As long as he's alive, you can only say a man _lucky_. So many things could still go wrong until he dies that it's wise to suspend judgment for the time being." 

The king wasn't pleased by that explanation. Nevertheless, you could infer that the sage would have given a similar answer if the king had inquired about unhappiness as well. _Don't say a man is unhappy until you have seen how he ends his life_. 

Had Ash not heard that surname, he would have met his death that day. But since he did and reacted accordingly in order to protect his old man and his brother, he would still have his chance at happiness after all. 

***

Dr. Striped Shrimp decreed three weeks of rest for Ash, the first of which was to be spent in bed, wearing a chest brace. The villa was the last place where Ash wanted to spend his recovery period, but he didn't have a say in the matter. Ash had only met the doctor once before, when he had examined Ash, as part of the procedure for any "dish" to be served at Club Cod. Being reminded at any step that what had happened to leave him a rotting pulp must have been all his fault didn't make the reunion more pleasant. What is more, the boss hadn't said how long Ash would remain there. 

When Ash was allowed to leave the bed, Gregory became his shadow. Not only Ash, but even the other guards were confused to find out that Dino's personal guard was appointed to this task. If the boys from the locker rooms could have seen him, they would have been insanely jealous. But for Ash, that meant only more troubles in shaking the surveillance, when he could have learned where Griffin was. Ash explored the villa from top to bottom with Gregory, who kept his lips sealed as if he was under a vow of silence. The library, the garage with its half dozen high-end cars, including the kitchen, had no secrets for him anymore. 

In the kitchen he met the cook, Madame Babette. She didn't speak a lick of English and greeted him, at his first visit, with a question in French, " _Qui est ce petit éphèbe_?" 

Ash guessed the meaning and introduced himself with that broken French he had learned by listening to Sean shadowing his recordings aloud. 

She had come straight from Corsica 15 years earlier. The boss loved every now and then to converse in his mother tongue, with the excuse of discussing the menu. He welcomed and encouraged her stubbornness to stick to French.

The woman had graying hair under the bonnet. And affable manners, Ash had to admit. He ended up visiting her every day, with the pretext of a mid-morning or mid-afternoon snack, even when, in the middle of January, the three weeks of recovery had been over and he came back from the Club Cod, having watched a demonstration of what he was expected to perform during the President's Day. Dino, in fact, had informed Ash of his scheduled debut at the club as soon as he had extorted the boy's consent to pay his debt at the mention of the boss's _interest_ in Ash's family. Now it was time to act on his word. 

The savoy cabbage was in a boiling pot while in a pan she was incorporating the yellow onions in the French fry, made with two tablespoons of goose fat instead of oil. The smell was so strong that it would force itself through the most reluctant nostrils. She smiled at him and added the carrots to the fry. 

Ash seated in the corner and watched her. Since his worries wouldn't leave him alone, instead of the bowls on the table, he could see Jack upside down flexing his legs down over his head. Yes, exactly as he had done on the stage earlier that afternoon on a pile of tires. 

Babette passed the cabbage under cold water. The unannounced sound of water coming out from the tap distracted Ash from his vision. She picked up the softer leaves and began to alternate a double layer of cabbage leaves with the seasoned salmon inside a colander to form a ball tied up into a round bundle. Ash's gaze lingered over her back, then returned to the table. 

In Ash's mind Jack was going on with his acrobatic strip tease, pretending that the hot weather was unbearable. The grace of his disrobing moves and seasoned actor's facial gestures never failed to make an impression on Ash, even if right now Jack was living only inside his head. He couldn't help but think that he, instead, couldn't meet Dino's expectations, becoming able to give the same performance in a bit more than a month. 

The acting that betrayed no fatigue and the stunts of his housemate had left Ash breathless. Somehow, since Ash had lost track of time, the low heat cooking of the cabbage and salmon continued in a cast iron bowl and was actually about to end. 

Ash had tried to talk to Jack after his demonstration with little success. Jack had refused to indulge in a conversation there. He had made it clear he wouldn't spill the beans unless Ash had moved back to the apartment. 

When Ash confessed not to know if or when he could, Jack had insisted, _Come up with something to have the Octopus send you back to us. Get your brains in gear!_ So Ash had two goals for now: making the performance work in time for the show and finding a way back to the Goldfish house. Ash wondered whether Babette would have let him taste the dome of savoy cabbage and salmon ahead of dinner. He believed that he couldn't face the anxiety of both those tasks without some comfort food. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy for the kind feedback I got. You made my day and keep me going, guys!! ❤️ As always I hope you have enjoyed reading this update. The next one will be between March and April, depending on the length. Bye bye!


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